by Ruth Downie
"Very quick, then."
The man broke into a jog to keep up. "I just wanted to say I was sorry to hear about your fire. And to thank you for your help with naming that body the other day."
"Oh," said Ruso, slowing down to negotiate the ladder of an off-duty soldier painting the front of a house. "Right. It was just good luck that I'd spoken to the porter."
"They've finished clearing the site now. There aren't any more bodies."
"Well, I suppose that's good news."
"I went down to the bar to tell them myself," continued the liaison officer, as if this were not his job but someone else's.
"How did they take it?"
"The owner wasn't too happy about paying for another funeral."
"No, so I hear."
"I told her she ought to keep a better eye on her girls."
"Maybe we need to keep a better eye on our men. This is the second runaway who's been found dead."
"We are aware of that, Ruso. We aren't quite asleep over in HQ, you know."
"You might also want to look at a part-time slave trader who supplies girls to bars. He's called Claudius Innocens."
"Really? What do you know about him?"
"Not much," said Ruso. "I just don't like him, that's all."
"I'll mention it," said the officer. "If there's an investigation."
"You mean there isn't?"
"It's not up to me," said the officer. "I just write reports. But thanks for the tip."
As they parted company it struck Ruso that it was no wonder the men of the Twentieth needed to be given talks about security. They had been stationed here far too long. The staff weren't quite asleep in HQ, but there were certainly corners over there where a man with limited ambition could lie down and snooze undisturbed, except when he roused himself to pass on a piece of interesting gossip. He supposed it was the liaison officer who had told Valens that the legate would be leading the First's mission in person. No wonder Valens had wormed his way onto the list. Valens, not Ruso, was seizing the chance to shine. Valens, the army doctor with no combat experience.
Not, by all accounts, that there was much chance of any combat on this trip. If the local chief were to have a change of heart about his loyalty to Rome, he would hardly be likely to have it during a visit from the legate and the First Century Which, of course, was the point of the trip. Anyone who really wanted to see some action, Ruso had been assured, would seek a posting up north to join in the fun the army were having with the Brigantes.
Ruso had long ago lost any illusions about combat being fun, but it occurred to him that it would do no harm to check out the state of the medical service in the north. If he could cook up some excuse for a few days away, he could return Valens's favor by leaving him to manage all the medical work on his own. In the meantime, Ruso was going to take advantage of his housemate's absence to save himself some cash.
43
TILLA WAS SHREDDING cabbage. She was doing it carefully, slowly, and badly. No matter how hard she tried to hold the knife steady with her left hand, it faltered. Before they toppled onto the scored wood of the kitchen table and broke into untidy shreds, the slices of cabbage were tapered like door-wedges. This mattered to no one else—the cabbage was to be stewed anyway—but Tilla's mind was traveling far ahead of tonight's supper.
She put down the knife, grasped at the air to flex her stiff fingers, and picked it up again. Her work was slow, but it pleased her. She needed to train her left hand into some sort of dexterity if she were to escape and survive. Even if the Roman healer had rebuilt her shattered arm perfectly—which seemed unlikely—her right hand would be feeble after being bandaged for so long. Besides, with every rasp of the knife through the crisp green flesh she could imagine it was not a cabbage she was slicing up, but a man.
To her relief Innocens had gone, leaving the girl Phryne locked in the upstairs room. Phryne, pale but apparently not ill, had been let out to join the other girls on the morning trip to the baths. Tilla had held a brief conversation with her on the way, but Merula had moved close enough to overhear, and they had fallen silent.
Inside the baths, Phryne was the last to take her clothes off. For a moment Tilla wondered if she was going to refuse, but Chloe murmured something in her ear that persuaded her to cooperate. Finally undressed, Phryne sat in the corner of the hot room with her child's body huddled in a towel, watching the other girls as they strolled about in the steam, chatting and laughing, their naked flesh glistening with sweat. Her eyes kept returning to Daphne's blue-veined breasts and enormous rounded belly, taking in the dark line that ran down from the protruding navel and the silver streaks that showed where the skin was stretching and splitting. The girl brought one hand to her mouth as Daphne flopped down splay-legged on the bench, poured oil into one palm, rubbed her hands together, and began to massage the surface of the bulge.
Two girls Tilla did not recognize wandered into the hot room. As soon as they saw who was in there, they retreated. A few moments later some older women wrapped in towels paused in the doorway, looked around, glanced at each other, and then ventured in. They clopped past Merula's girls in wooden bath shoes—they had brought their own, Tilla noticed—and seated themselves in the farthest corner, turning very straight backs toward the rest of the room.
Not long ago, Tilla would have shared these women's contempt for Merula and her girls. Yet now that she lived among them, she had begun to realize things were not as simple as she had supposed. The girls were kept to serve the same army that had built this bathhouse, which the respectable women were now enjoying. This morning, when a man in the street had shouted an insult at them, the same Bassus who had grabbed Tilla as if she were an animal went across to him, said something to him, and then with one swift movement smacked the flat of his hand against the man's ear. Several passersby hurried on while Bassus stood over the fallen man with his arms folded, looking around as if he were daring anyone else to insult his girls. When Merula thanked him he shook his head sadly "People 'round here," he said. "They don't know nothing about respect."
The hairdressers were plying their trade at the baths as usual. To Tilla's relief nobody showed much interest in her. Her hair was left in anonymous plaits.
Phryne had to sit on the stool while her flat blond locks were sprung into curls with the hot tongs and pinned behind her head in a complicated knot. She managed something like a smile when she was shown the results in the mirror, pursing her lips quickly to hide her teeth. The effect was soon over because Merula told them to take it all down again. "That's not what we want," she said. "You've made her look older."
Merula had gone shopping while Bassus escorted the girls back to the bar and ordered Daphne and Chloe to open up. As he took up a position by the door, Stichus emerged from the kitchen and looked Phryne up and down. He glanced across at Bassus, who shrugged indifference. Stichus seized Phryne by the wrist and dragged her toward the stairs.
Before she could consider the wisdom of it, Tilla had shouted, "Leave her alone!"
The room fell silent. For a moment the only sound was the crackling of the fire under the hot drinks counter. Stichus, still keeping a grip on Phryne's wrist, looked at Bassus as if waiting for guidance. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch.
Tilla squared her shoulders. Still addressing Stichus, she said, "She is only a child."
Bassus's stool scraped the tiles. He made his way across the room, a slow smile spreading across his face. Tilla took a deep breath and stood her ground.
Bassus reached out a forefinger and lifted her chin. "And you," he said quietly, "are only a slave. Who won't always have that nice doctor around to look after her." He withdrew the finger. "Remember that."
Stichus jerked Phryne toward the stairs. Tilla felt an arm around her shoulders. "Into the kitchen," urged Chloe. "Cook needs you."
Tilla plunged the knife into another cabbage and tried not to think about Phryne, or how easily the girl's fate might have been her own. She wo
uld not wait to find out what might happen when she did not have the doctor to look after her. In fifteen days, she would be gone.
Since the few windows that opened onto the street were barred against burglars, there were only two ways out of Merula's. The main entrance was shuttered and locked at night and guarded by Bassus or Stichus—or both—during the day. The kitchen door led to a gloomy yard from which a door in a high wall opened onto a side street. The door was barred except when kitchen deliveries came in, and the bar secured with a padlock whose key swung from Merula's belt. Even if she managed to steal the key, she would have to fiddle with the padlock in full view of the kitchen window, the upstairs cubicles (not that much window-gazing went on up there), and the row of private rooms occupied by Merula and the doormen, which ran all along the opposite side of the yard to join the building behind. The front entrance was the only realistic way out. She would have to find an excuse to go out into the bar in the evening, wait until the doorman was distracted, and slip away into the night. Most people seemed to think this was the route Asellina and Saufeia had taken, although no one had actually seen them leave.
Strangely enough, it might be easier to escape now that Asellina had been found. The other girls had said little about the circumstances of her death, but they were clearly shocked and frightened by it. And, though only Chloe had dared to say so, upset to realize how little they would be mourned if the same fate befell them. The doormen would not be expecting anyone to venture out alone now.
A door opened behind her. She did not look up.
"Tilla!"
She twisted around, looked up into Merula's painted eyes for a moment, then put down the knife and scrambled to her feet. There was no one else in the kitchen.
"Tilla," said Merula, folding her arms. "I don't suppose for a moment that's your real name, is it?"
"My master says I am Tilla."
"Don't stare at me like that, girl! Haven't you learned anything?"
Tilla lowered her gaze and stared at the rings that looked too heavy for Merula's thin fingers.
"You look well, Tilla."
"I am well, Mistress."
"Many people have helped you to recover. You should be grateful to them,"
"Yes, Mistress."
Merula reached forward and raised a tangle of untidily shredded cabbage. "Is that the best you can do?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"If you were one of my girls, you would be better trained."
Tilla resisted the urge to look her in the eye. "I am not one of your girls, Mistress."
The cabbage fell back onto the table. "No," agreed Merula. "None of my girls would dare to question the actions of her superiors, or to speak of what did not concern her."
"No, Mistress."
"Learn this for your own good, Tilla. Slaves who cannot control their tongues may lose them."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Remember my advice. Now go and collect your things. Your master has come to fetch you."
44
RUSO GLANCED BACK to make sure the girl was keeping up. He was glad to get her away from that place. He had explained that he was in a hurry and since they had not yet added up the bill for Tilla's lodgings, Merula had agreed to have it sent over to the hospital. On the way out Bassus had given Tilla a smile that she did not return, said he was sure that they would meet again, and said, "You won't forget us, will you?"
Tilla looked him in the eye and said, "I will not."
Bassus turned his attention to Ruso. "When d'you think she'll be fit?" "Not for some time."
Bassus's grin reappeared. "You doctors. Never commit yourself, do you?
"Not if we can help it," said Ruso.
He was swerving out into the street to avoid the painter's ladder when he heard the approaching rhythm of boots on gravel.
He looked up to see a unit of infantry whose front men had now begun to clatter along the flagstoned street behind him. Ruso turned and called, "Step back!" to Tilla. She might not know that a tired column within sniffing distance of its barracks had all the braking ability of a boulder rolling down a mountain. The painter, seeing their approach, wisely scrambled down his ladder and moved its base closer to the house. A wandering hen jerked its head up, glared at the disturbance, and scuttled out of the way
Tilla stood with her back to the wall as the column began to pass. Judging from the mud, the sweat-streaked hair, and the volume at which the centurion and his optio were berating the stragglers, these men were returning from the regulation twenty-mile full-kit training march.
Several men were looking across at Tilla and grinning. One or two winked at her. Instead of lowering her head like a modest woman, Tilla folded her good arm over her bandaged one and stared back boldly Ruso moved to stand next to her just as the centurion spotted what was happening and bellowed, "Eyes front!"
"Look away!" Ruso ordered her.
He surveyed the grimy faces of the legionaries trudging past. Any of them could have squeezed the life out of the unlucky Saufeia.
"Tiger stripes," said Ruso to the gate guard without being asked, swiftly followed by, "So, have there been any calls for the doctor?"
"Not a thing, sir."
Ruso handed the man a coin. He beckoned the girl in past the heavy studded gates and led her under the arch. "I'll organize a gate pass for you so you can do the shopping," he said. "Do you understand what your duties are?"
She nodded. "I cook and clean and mind the dogs."
"Good." He unhooked the front door key from his belt and handed it to her. "What can you cook?"
She looked at him. "Soup?"
"Fine," he agreed.
"What in soup?"
Ruso thought about that for a moment. There was unlikely to be much in the kitchen, and if there was, the mice would have found it by now.
"Something tasty," he said, untying his purse. He picked out three coins and put them into her hand. "Buy something for breakfast as well."
Tilla picked up the coins and examined them on both sides as if she wasn't sure they were genuine. "Soup should start in the morning," she remarked.
"Well, do your best," he said. "I won't be back before dark anyway"
They passed into the main street of the fort. "This is the sort of route you are to take back and forth," he instructed her, sweeping one arm in the general direction of the legate's residence. "No exploring, you understand? Deva is not a place for a young woman to wander around on her own."
Tilla's head rose. "If a soldier touch me, my Lord, he will be punished."
"Perhaps," said Ruso, without a great deal of confidence, "but by then it will be too late. Listen to me. Both inside and outside the fort, you are to stick to busy streets where there are plenty of people. If a man pays attention to you, walk away. Don't try to put him in his place. You may get away with boldness wherever you come from, but it won't work around here."
Tilla said, "I pray to the goddess to protect me."
"Well, help her by using a little common sense. Two lone girls have died and I assume you know that at least one of them was murdered?"
"The goddess will punish that man, my Lord. I have put a curse on him."
"I see."
"Also, I will put a blessing on my Master."
"Let's hope your goddess is listening, then."
The girl smiled. "She is listening, my Lord. You see already what she do to Claudius Innocens."
45
THE HEAVY DOOR of the hospital swung shut and the latch dropped with a clank. The skies had cleared into a chilly night. Ruso nodded to the guards as he passed the legate's house. The great man himself was away, but his family would be asleep beyond that grand entrance. In moments of weakness, Ruso envied men who lived in married quarters: men who went home every night to a home-cooked meal and the pleasure of a woman to warm the bed. In such moments he usually took a firm hold of his imagination and brought it to heel by picturing the woman to be Claudia. Tonight, he had no cause for envy. He was going bac
k to warm lodgings and hot food. There would be no one in his bed—he had told the girl to use Valens's room—but there would be no one nagging him in the morning, either.
What a lot of things a man doesn't need.
He shivered, and turned to head toward his supper.
The house was pleasantly cozy, but only the dogs came to greet him. Evidently his servant had gone to bed. He lifted the lamp that had been left burning by the door, and sniffed. Leeks? Onions? It was hard to say. He carried the lamp into the kitchen. Then he cleared a space on the table, laid out the wooden bowl, the spoon, and some bread, which had been placed in the box with the lid weighted down, and settled down to enjoy his first home-cooked meal in Britannia.
The soup was lukewarm.
It was watery.
It was bland.
He took a mouthful of bread and then tried again.
This time the spoon brought out something rounded and hard. Exploring it with his tongue, he found peculiar soft strings attached to it. He returned the object to the spoon and held it up to the lamp to examine it. In the yellow light he saw the top of a carrot with most of the leaves still attached.
Gaius Petreius Ruso sighed deeply and pushed the bowl away. Truly, he was alone in a barbarian land.
46
THE BEDROOM door was wide open but she sidled in, singing softly to keep her courage up. Her eyes scanned the floor as she moved forward with the broom held out in front of her. Satisfied that the floor was clear, she ran clumsily in the medicus's big boots, twisted around, and landed on the bed with her feet in the air, the boots still on. Then she laid the boots and the broom on the bed and crawled around the mattress on her knees, bending to check that none of the covers were hanging down. Finally safe, she turned to the dog standing in the doorway, and said, "Are you ready?"
The medicus had told her to sleep in this room last night. It was the room of the other doctor, the friendly one, who had gone away. She had not slept well. To begin with she had lain rigid in the dark, listening for the sound of the medicus coming home and wondering if he would bed her, because he was a man, or beat her, because she was not a cook, or both.