Terra Incognita

86

The prisoners who had been cluttering the headquarters courtyard had been shifted somewhere out of the way, the waste buckets removed, and the gravel hastily raked into military lines. Ruso’s preparations had been less precise. They had consisted of rushing into the infirmary, ducking his head around Albanus’s door, and saying, “Glad to see you awake!” before wiping off the worst of the soot, flinging on his best tunic, seizing the sword he had failed to sharpen, diving into armor that looked remarkably clean considering he had forgotten to ask anyone to polish it, and strapping everything up on the run across to headquarters.

As he slipped onto the end of the row of officers beside Metellus, he realized the aide was also out of breath. Mercifully the governor was still taking his time. Staring straight ahead, Ruso murmured, “Catavignus came home late on the night of the murder in bloodstained clothing.”

“Not now, Ruso.”

“Where’s Tilla?”

“You stink of soot.”

Audax, stationed at the end of the row opposite, glared at them.

“The servant saw him,” Ruso insisted, struggling to talk without moving his lips. “His daughter heard him say he’d had a nosebleed.”

“I shall be glad when this is over,” muttered Metellus. “Even Gambax is trying to pretend he knows who did it now.”

Ruso risked a glance at him. “What’s he saying?”

“Who cares? If he knew, why didn’t he come forward when it happened? He’s trying to do a deal to save himself.”

Ruso was not able to argue, because at that moment the governor strode into the courtyard.

Everything that could gleam had been polished, including the top of his head. Everything that could jingle or glitter had been attached. Leaving his flunkies lined up by the entrance, the governor made his way around the silent and rigid rows of Batavians, with Decianus one pace behind, inspecting and commenting and pausing to chat with several of the men. Each side was clearly determined to impress the other, and Ruso curled his toes in frustration. He wanted to know what Metellus was going to do about Catavignus. He wanted to know what had happened to Tilla since she had been marched out of the prefect’s house. Instead, he was compelled to stand like a statue while the governor-admittedly the nearest thing to a god that was likely to visit Coria this summer-wandered about at his leisure.

The great man was progressing down Ruso’s row. He could hear the crunch of footsteps on the gravel. Somewhere ahead of him, a man tried to stifle a sneeze. There was movement in front of Ruso now. The footsteps paused. Ruso hoped the great man would not inhale too deeply and choke on the stink of soot.

“Has this officer come straight from duty?”

“From the infirmary, sir,” agreed Decianus.

The great man moved to stand directly in front of Ruso. “I take it things are busy at the infirmary?”

The required answer was, Yes, sir. The appropriate tone was one of enthusiasm, gratitude for being singled out, and a sincerity that would imply that Ruso’s scruffy turnout was the result of heroic and self-sacrificial devotion to the emperor’s service. Yes, sir.

“No, sir,” said Ruso. “I’ve been trying to catch a murderer so that you don’t end up condemning an innocent man to death later today.”

There was a brief and terrible silence, during which the whole courtyard seemed to hold its breath. “Very good,” said the governor benignly, and moved on down the row, leaving Ruso wondering if he had heard anything at all.