Terra Incognita

29

Ruso unbuckled his belt and placed it on top of the beer barrel. Then he sat down on his solitary bed and wondered if Tilla were missing him. He supposed the confusion about access was his own fault: He should have checked the regulations here before giving her instructions. Well, it was too late now. A man couldn’t think of everything. Especially a man who had begun the day with no cares beyond a few bug bites and ended it with a surgical failure, a grim secret, a lazy underling to discipline, and a clinic full of women and children to face tomorrow. Not to mention a mother-in-law who sent dangerously indiscreet letters and an absent housekeeper who seemed to be the army’s only link with some sort of violent Druid revival.

He unlaced his boots and set them together under the bed so that he could find them easily in the dark. Gambax was officially on duty, but he had left orders that he was to be called himself if there were a problem. Audax’s warning had only served to confirm Ruso’s unease about Gambax. It seemed he had been extending his slovenly influence over the infirmary for some time, usurping the ineffective Thessalus, and, by the sound of it, taking bribes from men who wanted to avoid duty. Tomorrow, he would confront him about the drug he had tasted in Thessalus’s wine. The trouble was, Gambax was the only person who knew what was in those unlabeled jars and packets in the pharmacy, and until today he had been the sole guardian of the records system. The man had dug himself in like a tick. He was unpleasant to have around, but wrenching him out too suddenly would leave a worse mess. Ruso would have liked to send him out to do the public clinic, but the local women and children probably hadn’t done anything to deserve him.

They probably hadn’t done anything to deserve Ruso either. What he had meant by promising to think about it was that he would announce his decision not to run the clinic when he had wrestled his conscience into accepting a good excuse. But now his conscience was telling him he was a coward. A public clinic run by an army medic (as opposed to passing quacks) probably provided a useful service. He would have the help of an experienced man, and he would get out of this miserably cramped infirmary for the afternoon.

Thinking of misery reminded him that he was supposed to be doing something about replying to Arria. The challenge of sorting out Arria made him feel weary. So weary that he was going to have to close his eyes for a moment and consider it from a horizontal position.

As soon as he lay down, Ruso discovered a new problem: The bed was not only narrow, but too short. He lay with his heels suspended in the cool air beyond the end of the mattress, wondering if this was Gambax’s revenge for having the staff’s access to the beer barrel curtailed.

He rolled over. Now his toes were dangling in the air instead of his heels. Perhaps it was just as well Tilla was not here. This bed would never allow two people to sleep at the same time, even if they liked each other a great deal. Especially if one of them had extremely cold feet.

At the memory of his last encounter with Tilla’s feet, the bite on his elbow began to itch. He slapped at it, sat up, and groped for the pen and inkpot he had borrowed from Albanus.

Dearest Mother, It grated to write this, but it would annoy Arria even more, as she was only seven years older than he was. With a son his age, how old would that make her?

I was surprised to have the pleasure of my first ever letter from you, which was forwarded to me at a temporary posting. I cannot send greetings to my sisters as I am writing in confidence, but you know my feelings for them.

Arria could make of that whatever she wanted. Ruso found his half sisters almost as exasperating-and twice as incomprehensible-as their mother.

I understand your anxiety but not your decision to confide in me via a marketplace scribe. I hope nobody has been given the false impression that no dowry is offered with my sisters. How I wish I could say this to you in your presence — and din some sense into your silly head-

Do NOT worry, mother. I admit I have been eager to protect my sisters — and their unfortunate future spouses- from rushing into marriage at the first opportunity. However, be assured that I am making useful investments here on the girls’ behalf and suitable dowries will be settled on them when the time comes.

He then scrawled an urgent letter to Lucius congratulating him and his wife on the birth of their new son and warning him to try and put a stop to Arria’s public complaining. As I have explained to her, he said, I am making useful investments here on the girls’ behalf.

He stared at the letter and realized he had sunk to a new low: Now he was lying to his brother. The place to make investments-if he had had any spare money-was Deva. It definitely wasn’t here on the crumbling edge of the empire, no matter how law-abiding and loyal the mustachioed Catavignus and his guild of caterers might consider themselves to be.

He reached for the third writing tablet he had persuaded Albanus to part with. He would cheer himself up by writing to Valens.

Ruso to his old friend and colleague Valens at Deva, greetings.

He paused. What next? The business of the murder was too sensitive to be entrusted to a letter, although it was just the sort of salacious gossip Valens would enjoy. He certainly could not convey his suspicion that the local unrest was more widespread than anyone was allowed to know, and that the governor had sent orders not to provoke the locals because if this Cernunnos business got out of hand there were not enough troops here to hold the roads. Once the roads were cut, the small border forts could be picked off one by one. No wonder the men from the Twentieth had been sent here. If Ruso’s suspicions were right, the governor would be sending a lot more troops up the north road very soon to impose order. There was a strong chance that far from being sent back to Deva, he would have his stay here extended indefinitely.

He surveyed the blank sheet and wished he had written the greeting in larger letters. Finally he settled on,

Bogs very pleasant at this time of year, and chest getting a fine tan. Tilla looking lovely in blue.

There was still plenty of blank space. It would be a waste not to use it. Maybe he would feel more inspired tomorrow.

He placed the letter on top of the barrel, blew out the lamp, lay down, and wondered where Tilla was sleeping tonight. He hoped wherever it was, it was better than this. An experimental shuffle up the bed confirmed that with his head pressing against the wall, his feet were almost on the mattress. He had just closed his eyes when a sudden idea made him fling back the covers and crawl down to the end of the bed on all fours. He groped about in the darkness, lifting the trunk off the chair and maneuvering it around so that the longest side was pressed against the end of the mattress. Then he rearranged the blankets. Finally he settled back down and stretched his feet experimentally past the end of the bed.

Ruso smiled to himself. At least one problem was solved.