by Jane Finnis
Young Spurius stood there, slightly out of breath. “Please, Mistress, Father says can you come at once? The man with the bad leg has woken up.”
I hurried over to the doctor’s house. In front of it a small carriage was drawn up, and the driver was helping down a young man with his right arm in a makeshift sling. From his appearance he was a native, but a well-to-do one wearing good Roman-style clothing, and a lovely tooled leather sword-belt, but no sword of course. From his white face and clenched mouth, his arm was hurting him badly.
Spurius opened the door for him. “The doctor is this way. I’ll tell him you’re here.” He led the way in, and called out, “Father! Another patient!”
Timaeus appeared and greeted the new arrival. “Timaeus is my name. I’m the doctor. Come through into my work-room.”
“Thank you. My name’s Coriu. I’m guard captain to Chief Bodvocus. I’m sorry I can’t shake hands.” He managed a thin smile. “I’ve broken my arm, or rather had it broken for me. I hear you’re the best bone-setter in these parts, so I hope you can patch me up.”
I’d never met Coriu, but I’d heard of Chief Bodvocus. He was a powerful native chieftain of the Parisi tribe, and he lived on the coast, so this guard captain, one of his senior men presumably, had travelled quite a distance.
“I’ll do my best. When was it broken?”
“Yesterday.”
“Good, you haven’t wasted any time in coming to see me. Some sort of accident, was it?”
“Not really. A Gaul attacked me with an axe. I think he was aiming for my head, so I suppose I should be thanking the gods that it’s no worse.”
“I’ll take a look, and we’ll see. If it’s a straightforward fracture it should heal up as good as new. If the ends of the broken bones overlap, we’ll probably need to stretch it, to make sure the arm doesn’t shorten.” He looked round and seemed to notice me for the first time. “I’ll be with you in a heartbeat, Aurelia. Now, Coriu, will you just climb onto this bed and make yourself as comfortable as you can. Phokas here will take off that sling and clean the wound, then we can see the damage. If you’ll forgive me, I must just have a quick word with Aurelia about Belinus. Come with me, Aurelia, he’s in the side-room.”
Phokas moved forward to help Coriu onto the high bed, but the injured man waved him away. “Belinus? From White Rocks Farm? Is he one of your patients?”
Timaeus nodded. “He was brought in last night. He’s quite badly hurt, I’m afraid. You know him?”
“Yes, I know all Chief Bodvocus’ people, and Belinus is a good young farmer. What’s happened to him? Was it the sea-raiders?”
“I don’t know. He’s been unconscious nearly all the time since he got here. His injury looks like a sword-wound, but the neighbour who brought him here said it was a farm accident.”
“No accident, I’d stake my life on it.” He paced across the room and back again, frowning. “Gods, this is serious. Belinus has had trouble from Voltacos’ raiders before, but I didn’t realise things had got as bad as this.” He paced the room again. “The Chief will need me now more than ever. I think I ought to go straight home. If you can put this arm in a decent sling for me and give me something to dull the pain, I’ll take a chance that it’ll mend by itself.”
“It won’t,” Timaeus said sternly. “You must know that, or you wouldn’t have come all this way to have it treated. Do you want a deformed right arm the rest of your life?”
Coriu hesitated. “That’s really what will happen? It won’t just heal itself?”
“Oh, it’ll heal after a fashion, but there’s a big risk you won’t have full use of it. Now I can see you’re worried about Belinus, but the only way you can help him is to get well and strong again as quickly as you can.”
Coriu shrugged, and the gesture made him wince. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s get on with it then.” He eased himself onto the bed, waving away Phokas’ help. “You say he’s badly hurt? He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
Timaeus adopted his most professional manner. “We’re doing everything we can for him, but these things take time. Now, let’s concentrate on you. Phokas, you know what to do. Aurelia, if you’ll just come with me to Belinus’ room…”
We entered the little side-room that was used by any of Timaeus’ patients who needed to stay in bed. I was disappointed to find that Belinus was unconscious. “Spurius said he’d woken up. I was expecting to be able to talk to him.”
Timaeus shook his head sadly. “He was only conscious for a very short time. He asked for your brother. I said he wasn’t here and I would fetch you, but he said that would take too long. He made me promise to give you this message: ‘Please send for Lucius urgently, there are lives depending on it.’ He repeated it two or three times and got quite worked up, and then he felt dizzy and passed out.”
“Send for Lucius?” Suddenly I began to see a possible reason why this stranger had wanted to see me: it was my brother, not me, he really wanted. Lucius was an investigator on the staff of the Governor. Could this Belinus be one of his informers?
Timaeus must have been thinking the same. “If he’s working for Lucius, that could explain why he was attacked, perhaps?”
“It certainly could, if whoever he was informing on found out.”
“Can you reach Lucius? Are you in touch with him?”
I never know how to answer that. A definite “yes and no” is the best I can usually manage. My brother is sent on assignments all over Britannia, but I rarely know the details. All I have is the name of a contact who’ll take messages for him, but he can’t guarantee how long they’ll take to arrive.
“I’ll have to send to the garrison at Eburacum. There’s a centurion there called Petreius who takes messages for Lucius. But how easily Petreius can get hold of Lucius to deliver them… anyone’s guess is as good as mine. I’ll do what I can. I’ll send a note today.”
He nodded. “Right. Now I must look after Coriu. It’s quite an honour, being asked to treat one of Bodvocus’ captains.”
“You’re treating quite a few natives now, aren’t you? When you first came here, apart from people in Oak Bridges who knew you, it was mostly settlers who consulted you, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose it was. I don’t really think about what tribe or country they comes from. If they’re sick or hurt, I treat them. That’s what I was taught, and that’s what I do.”
It didn’t take me long to write a short note to my brother, simply saying “the man from White Rocks” had met with a serious accident, and wanted to see him urgently. I wrote it on papyrus rather than a note-tablet, partly so I could tie it securely and seal it, but mainly because that made it appear somehow more important. I didn’t want some clerk at headquarters thinking it was just a party invitation.
I went to the stables, and asked Secundus to send someone to deliver it as fast as he could.
“It’s for my brother, and it’s urgent. I could wait for an official courier to come through, but I don’t want to risk a long delay. It’d be just my luck if all the couriers today were heading east instead of west. So I’d rather one of our own lads rode over with it. It’s to be delivered to a centurion named Petreius at garrison headquarters in Eburacum.”
“Right. The lads’ll be fighting over who goes, they always enjoy a visit to town.”
“It needs someone sensible, though. It’s not easy finding your way round a big fortress, and I want this delivered personally, preferably into Petreius’ hands, not just left lying about.”
“Understood. Malchus can go. He’s got cousins in the army, so he knows his way round a military base.”
“Fine, a good choice.” Malchus was an experienced rider and had a calm head on his shoulders. “Make sure he knows it’s urgent, and I don’t want him fobbed off by some officious pest at the fortress gates if Petreius isn’t there. In that case he’s to leave the scroll with the duty gate commander, and get a receipt for it.”
Secundus grinned. “Aye, so you said. It’s something important. I’ve got the message.”
“Sorry, Secundus. You of all people know what the army’s like, it’s just that I’m worried. One of the injured men who was brought in yesterday has information for my brother. He says it’s life or death.”
I’d wandered back to the forecourt, my steps slowing as I gloomily contemplated the paperwork still waiting on my desk, when a party of four rode in, two well-dressed Romans with a couple of muscular bodyguards in attendance, Gauls to judge by their haircuts. They were all well mounted, and though the Romans wore civilian travelling cloaks, they looked like soldiers, or possibly ex-soldiers. I stopped, wondering if these were the men who’d come to buy horses.
Sure enough, as they dismounted, the older Roman said, “I’m Ostorius Magnus. Will you tell Aurelia Marcella we’re here?”
“I’m Aurelia Marcella. Welcome to the Oak Tree.”
“Thank you. Let me present my eldest nephew Vividus.”
I hardly needed to be told they were related, the family likeness was so marked. They were a handsome pair, tall and sandy-haired, though Magnus’ hair had touches of grey. Their faces were similar, with bushy eyebrows and high cheekbones. Only one thing marred Vividus’ appearance. His left cheek was badly swollen, and when both men smiled pleasantly at me, Vividus’ smile was noticeably lop-sided.
Magnus held out his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard plenty about you.”
I made the stock response. “Not all bad, I hope?”
“Quite the reverse.” Now Vividus took my hand, and he wasn’t in a hurry to let it go. “Your sister and brother-in-law have sung your praises.” He had an odd lisp to his speech, presumably caused by his swollen cheek. “Their farm is quite close to ours. But I have to say, now that I’ve met you, their descriptions haven’t done you justice.” He gave my hand a final squeeze and smiled into my eyes.
Well well, I thought, this one fancies himself as a ladies’ man, doesn’t he? He’s certainly attractive, if you like military good looks, which I do, or he will be when his face isn’t swollen. But is he trying a bit too hard? Charm, as my grandmother used to say, should be sprinkled about like a rare spice, not ladled on like fish sauce.
I suggested we share a jog of wine before we started our horse-trading, but to my surprise they both shook their heads.
Magnus said, “Thank you, in due course, but business before pleasure, eh? And I think Vividus is anxious to see your doctor first, aren’t you?”
Vividus nodded and smiled his uneven smile. He gestured towards his cheek, but didn’t touch it. “It’s quite painful, and seems to be getting worse. I think the tooth needs to come out.”
“Bad luck. But you’ll be in good hands with Timaeus, he’s an excellent doctor. You’re sure you wouldn’t like a beaker of wine first?”
“It’s tempting, but no, I’ll wait till he’s done his worst. It’ll give me something to look forward to afterwards. As well as the pleasure of your company, of course.” He gave me another oh-so-charming lop-sided smile. “Where will I find the medico?”
I pointed the way. “He’s having a busy time at present. Several men have come down from the wold country to have wounds treated. I don’t know if you’ve come across Chief Bodvocus yet? His guard captain Coriu is the latest patient, he came to see Timaeus this morning to have a broken arm set. He’s probably still here.”
Vividus scowled. “I hope I can avoid him. That would be worse than the toothache.”
“You could break his other arm,” Magnus suggested, and they both laughed.
Magnus said thoughtfully, “So there have been wounded natives, as well as wounded Romans? That’s interesting.”
“Some of each. Timaeus doesn’t make any distinction. He treats anyone who needs him, as long as they can pay him something.”
Vividus grimaced. “I’ll pay all right, if he can cure this pain. Well, here goes. Save me plenty of wine.” And he strode smartly off towards Timaeus’ house.
Chapter III
Secundus was waiting for us in the stable yard, and I made the introductions.
“The four yearlings we’re selling are in the small paddock there,” he said, pointing. “The four black ones wearing halters.”
Magnus looked surprised. “Still running loose? I thought you’d have had them tied up here by the railings. Don’t they stand well?”
The stable-master grinned, recognising the start of a hard bargaining session. “They do, and I could have tied them up here ready. But then you might have wondered how easy they are to catch, mightn’t you? And the answer is, very easy, as I’ll show you.”
“They’re all used to halter work then?”
“Aye, they are, and they’ve all had some training carrying blankets on their backs, but we haven’t saddled any of them yet. A year’s on the young side for that.”
“Good. I’ve my own horse-trainer on the estate, and he’ll break them in. Well now, catch them please, and I’ll have a close look.”
Secundus beckoned Castor, one of the older horse-boys, and together they fetched the young black horses out and tied them to the paddock railings. All four came easily and stood quietly, looking good. They continued to behave beautifully while Magnus first walked all round them, then examined them carefully, looked in their mouths, and finally checked their feet.
“Not bad so far,” he said. “Now can I see them in action?”
We went to an empty paddock, where Secundus put a long leading-rope on each in turn and made them circle round showing their paces. They worked well, and I was proud of them.
There followed some interesting bargaining. Magnus began by assuming that the innkeeper and stable-master of a country mansio would be easy to bully or persuade, and would naturally give a powerful estate owner a very advantageous deal. He soon discovered his mistake. I’m never short of customers for my horses, and I don’t sell them cheaply. After protracted haggling he ended by buying all four, and for exactly the price Secundus and I had agreed beforehand.
We shook hands on the deal and went into the bar-room, where I produced a jug of our best Gaulish red, and ordered a big plate of bread, olives, and cheese to go with it. We sat down to wait for Vividus.
“You mentioned that Vividus is your eldest nephew,” I said, pouring out the wine. “Have you other nephews and nieces here in Britannia with you?”
“I’ve three altogether, and yes, they’re all here with me. They’re my sister’s boys, I took them on when she died. Ferox is next oldest, there’s only a year between him and Vividus. He’s our estate manager. He’s a natural organiser and has a feel for farm work, and doesn’t take any nonsense from the slaves. He’s ex-army, finished up second-in-command of an auxiliary squadron, discharged just last summer.”
“And your youngest?”
“Ah, Aquilo. Not a soldier, I’m afraid, and I doubt if he’ll ever make much of a fist of being a farmer. He’s more of a—a scholar, I suppose. He plays the lyre, and studies music. And writes poetry.” It was clear from his tone that he didn’t think much of these occupations.
“How interesting. I like both musicians and poets, and they’re pretty thin on the ground in Britannia. I hope I’ll meet him some day.”
“Come and visit whenever you like. But Aquilo may not be here much longer. He’s talking about going off to study in Italia, or even Greece. Leave the running of the estate to those of us that are good at it. I’ll probably let him, but I don’t believe in giving children everything they want straight away.”
I’d like to have asked more, but Vividus strode in just then. He was pale, but his face was much less swollen, and his smile was symmetrical.
“Business all done, Uncle?” His lisp had gone. “Did you buy any?”
“Four yearlings.”
“Four?” He laughed as he sat down. “Aurelia, he spent the whole journey here telling me that he definitely wasn’t goi
ng to buy more than two today. You must have a silver tongue.”
“Just some good horses,” I smiled, and poured him a beaker. “How’s the toothache?”
He took the wine, drank a good half of it, and sighed contentedly. “That’s better! My mouth’s still sore. Timaeus pulled the whole tooth out, roots and all. It hurt worse than a kick in the balls, but he said if he left it there the poison would spread all over my body. He’s given me some ointment to rub into my gum, and he says it’ll heal up clean.” He drank the rest of his mug. “By Mars, this wine’s excellent.”
Magnus nodded. “It is. From Italia?”
“No, from the south of Gaul.” I poured Vividus a refill.
“It’s good to know we’ll be able to get a decent tipple in the back of beyond. Sometimes I wonder why we’ve come to Britannia, you know. It’s one thing fighting barbarians when you’re in the army, quite another living among them, so far away from everything civilised.”
“Now Uncle, that’s hardly tactful, sitting here in Aurelia’s excellent bar-room. At the Oak Tree at least there is civilisation.”
“Sorry,” Magnus said gruffly. “Didn’t mean to be rude. Forgive an old soldier.”
“We saw your sister and her husband quite recently.” Vividus went on smoothly. “We’re only about five miles from their farm. What a nice couple, and they’ve a good place there. Albia told me she used to work for you here, before she was married.”
“She was my housekeeper for many years. But she’s very happy with Candidus. Farming life suits her.”
“You’re unusual, aren’t you?” Magnus remarked. “I mean it’s uncommon to find a woman innkeeper. Normally a man’s in charge at an official mansio. But I expect the rules are slacker out here near the frontier.”
I ignored the implication that a woman couldn’t make as good an innkeeper as a man. It isn’t true, and I’ve heard it too many times to let it upset me. “My brother Lucius and I are joint proprietors, but he’s on the provincial Governor’s staff, so the day-to-day running of the place is my responsibility.”