Medicus

by Ruth Downie

  This, Ruso supposed, explained why Priscus's man had not been at home. It was hard to imagine the timid house slave being much use as a security guard. "Go back to work," he urged. "We'll manage here."

  "It's too late now. Madam here's made so much fuss she's frightened all the customers away."

  Tilla turned. "You must all get out."

  Ruso said, "I'll stay in case you need any—"

  "Out!"

  "Who do you think you are?" demanded Merula. "He is a doctor, and this is my room!"

  Tilla put her hand to her throat. "There is poison inside," she explained, fingering the acorns as she glanced between Ruso and Merula. "If anyone comes near, I will eat it. I will die. And her," she pointed at Daphne, "and the child. Understand?"

  Ruso grasped Merula's arm and forced her out into the corridor. "We understand," he said, and closed the door behind them.

  "She's bluffing," said Merula.

  "No, she isn't," said Ruso. "She knows about poisons."

  They heard the thud of the bar dropping on the other side of the door. "Bitch!" muttered Bassus, who had apparently been lurking outside with Priscus. "We'll sort her out later." He glanced at Merula. "Busy night, was it?"

  "Yes. No thanks to you, or to madam back there. Stichus is closing up. You might think of helping him."

  "He can work for free if he wants," retorted Bassus, heading off down the corridor. "I'm going to pick up a bit of what's owed to me."

  "Don't you dare touch that money!" shouted Merula, running after him. "It isn't yours. I have to take out costs, pay the bills . . . !"

  Priscus turned to Ruso. "I don't think we need you now."

  Ruso hesitated just long enough to bid his promotion a silent and sad good-bye, and to wonder how many night duties he would owe Valens because of this. Then he said, "I'm not leaving here without Tilla."

  "The girl belongs to a legionary welfare fund. If you attempt to remove her, you will be put on a charge and she will be taken from you."

  Ruso was about to argue when there was a roar of, "Bastard!" from somewhere at the far end of the corridor.

  He asked, "What time did they find her?" but Priscus was already hurrying toward the sound, calling over his shoulder, "I have the documents, Ruso!"

  Ruso followed him along the corridor, through the empty kitchen, and into the brighter light of the bar.

  Bassus was still shouting. "Bastard! Thieving sniveling ginger bastard!" The top of his head was visible as he rummaged behind the counter. Everyone except he and Merula seemed to have gone.

  Merula flung herself across the counter, elegant bottom in the air, arms flailing, reaching for something. As Ruso watched she slid back to the floor. In her hand was the box in which the earnings were kept secure behind the bar. She upended it above her head. A sprinkle of dust and a small brown feather drifted to the floor. She gave a howl of despair. "The entire payday money!"

  Priscus was saying, "But who—?" when Bassus rose from behind the bar and hurled a jug across the room. "Him and that cheap tart!" The jug hit the wall opposite with a dull crack and shattered on the floor. A couple of late-night customers who had crept in around the unlocked shutters made a hasty retreat.

  "But who—?"

  "Stichus and Chloe, of course!" exclaimed Merula. "I should never have trusted him once that little vixen got ahold of him."

  Ruso closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. He had been relying on Stichus to give him back the money to pay the Aesculapian fund. Instead, it was clear the man had stolen the bar takings and fled. Without the money to cover the loan, even if Tilla were released tonight, Ruso would have to hand her back to Priscus tomorrow.

  There was a scrape of wood on tile and a clatter of tumbling cups as Priscus shoved a table aside. "They won't get away with this!" he announced, peering around the shutters into the dark street. "We'll have them followed."

  "In the middle of the night?" snapped Merula.

  "This is your fault!" said Bassus to Priscus. "If it weren't for you and your tight-fisted money-saving schemes, none of this would have happened."

  Priscus glared at him. "You were supposed to be at the door!"

  "And you're supposed to be the one with the brains!"

  Priscus sighed and lowered himself onto a bench. "Merula. Find me something to drink."

  "The good wine's in the kitchen," said Merula, heading toward it.

  "And two cups!" shouted Bassus after her. He seated himself beside Priscus. "I've had enough of this. I want my money" He slid along the bench until he was pressed against the administrator, who visibly braced himself to avoid being pushed off the end and onto the floor. "So until you come up with it . . ." Bassus gave a smile that was truly frightening, "you got the pleasure of my company. Give me the girl and we'll call it even."

  "The girl isn't his to give," put in Ruso, stepping forward.

  The two men looked up at him. "As I have explained, Ruso," said Priscus, "she is not yours either."

  Ruso, hoping neither of them knew that he had lent his money to the vanished Stichus, said, "Give her back to me, Priscus. Women aren't safe with you. You don't want someone tracking down Saufeia's family and telling them how she died, do you?"

  "Saufeia?"

  "You know what I'm talking about."

  "Nobody knows how that girl died!" snapped Priscus. "She was just a slave who ran away. Tilla is a slave who is signed over as guarantee for a loan. The two are not connected."

  "Both were bought on the cheap without asking too many questions."

  Priscus shrugged. "I have no idea what you mean, Ruso. Nor do I know how you can justify wasting time here when you should be on duty at the hospital."

  Ruso did not know the answer to that one himself. Instead he said, "How much did you know about Saufeia when you bought her?"

  Priscus frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. I am not responsible for buying bar staff."

  "Of course you are. It's your bar."

  "Merely a business investment. I arrange the finances. I employ a manager to do everything else."

  "Including the deals with cockroaches like Claudius Innocens? Or do you do those yourself?"

  "I have quite enough responsibilities at the hospital without taking on any more."

  "Where do you think those girls come from, Priscus? Don't you stop to wonder why the prices are so low?"

  Bassus rammed an elbow into Priscus's ribs. "See? What did I tell you?"

  "Hold your tongue!" ordered Priscus, moving to another seat and bending to rub the bruised side of his chest. "You should never listen to malicious gossip, Ruso. Merula's bar is a respectable business."

  "It's easy enough to buy a cheap girl, isn't it?" Ruso continued. "I've done it myself. But I didn't force mine to work in a place like this. Whereas your people were stupid enough to do that even after Saufeia had told them she was a citizen and asked for help."

  There was only a slight pause before Priscus clasped his hands in apparent dismay. "Are you telling me," he said, "that that poor Saufeia girl was a Roman citizen?"

  Bassus snorted. "Don't pretend you didn't know." He turned to Ruso. "He knew all right."

  "Don't be ridiculous!"

  "I was there when Merula told him," Bassus continued, ignoring the interruption. "He said we'd got to shut the girl up."

  "What did he mean by that?"

  "How should I know? I did what I always do when they act up. I explained a few things to her for her own good. In a way that would help her remember. Only instead of being sensible she went and wrote a letter asking for help and tried to send it to the legate. What was I supposed to do then?"

  "I don't know," said Ruso. "What did you do?"

  "I went to the management," said Bassus. "I told them we ought to be careful. With her being a citizen."

  Unlike the unfortunate Daphne, thought Ruso, whose talkativeness had been cured with a sharp knife.

  "I'm only the head doorman," continued Bassus, nodding toward his employ
er. "I gave the letter to him. Then it all happened like I told you."

  "He's lying," insisted Priscus. "I never saw any letter. I had nothing to do with what happened to that girl. I told you, I leave all that to the manager."

  "But Merula couldn't deal with this, could she?" said Ruso. "The girl wanted protection from a legionary officer."

  "I don't know what she wanted!" snapped Priscus.

  "And when an officer wrote back to her, offering to help, she didn't have the sense to realize it was a trap." Ruso turned to Bassus. "Did she really give you the slip, or were you told to let her out?"

  "What do you think?" growled Bassus. "You think I can't do my job? 'Course we were told."

  "Not by me!" insisted Priscus.

  "No," agreed Bassus. "But I don't reckon Merula dreamed it up by herself. I reckon she thought you were letting the girl go."

  "Letting her go?" demanded Priscus. "Merula would know better than that! The girl would have gone back to her family, raised a complaint, created a scandal—you would all have been in serious trouble!"

  "So would you," pointed out Bassus. "You bought her."

  "Nonsense!" retorted Priscus. He turned to Ruso. "You see the difficulty I'm in, Ruso? My staff made a terrible mistake and tried to cover it up. I only found out when it was over. It was too late to save that poor girl, and now they're trying to save themselves by blaming it on me."

  "It weren't me what killed her," insisted Bassus. "And it weren't Stich either." He glowered at Priscus. "We just got orders to go and clean up your mess. Again."

  The hand that rose to smooth Priscus's hair was shaking. "I am not responsible for any of this," he insisted. He turned to Bassus. "If you try to claim I was involved, I will tell the whole story and you will be tried and executed. And as for you, Ruso—you've been trying to undermine me ever since you came here. If you attempt to pass this slander on to anyone else, I will sue."

  "Fine," said Ruso. "And I'll produce the evidence of the letter, and we'll let the governor decide."

  "There was no letter!"

  Ruso shook his head. "The trouble with terrorizing your staff, Priscus, is that they're too scared to bend the rules. I don't know what you said to the clerks, but one of them was so thorough he made sure your reply to Saufeia was entered in the official record."

  "You're joking!" exclaimed Bassus. "He used the official post?"

  "Shut up!" Priscus scowled at Ruso. "You're lying."

  "You said she wasn't going to bother us again!" shouted Bassus. "You said you'd dealt with her and nobody would know!"

  Priscus leaped to his feet. "Keep your mouth shut, you fool! He's lying!"

  They were both looking at Ruso now. He paused, savoring his sud- den feeling of power and wishing he had the money to back it up. "You know what I'm like with administration, Priscus," he said. "Not my strong point, is it? Do you really think I would have dreamed up a tale about post logs? And before you start to think about strangling me in a back alley . . ." he glanced at Bassus, "or performing tongue surgery, or arranging any accidents, you should know that I've followed your example and made a file copy of all this." He made his way toward the kitchen door. "It's to be opened later this evening if I don't return. So," he added, "I'll be leaving with Tilla as soon as she's finished."

  He left them to argue. The last words he heard as the kitchen door swung shut were from Bassus. "The official post? Are you really that stupid?"

  The kitchen was still empty. The staff seemed to have abandoned the mess and retreated to bed. There was no sign of Merula either, nor the wine she had gone to fetch. Beyond it, the corridor that led to the back of the building was in darkness. Ruso paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust, listening for any sound from Daphne or the child. There was none. Suddenly he had the odd conviction that there was someone else there with him.

  He held his breath. His right hand moved slowly and silently toward his knife. From behind him came the faintest rustle of fabric. He spun around, knife pointed at where someone's throat might be. "Don't move!"

  "Don't hurt me!" It was Merula's voice.

  He said, "Why are you hiding?"

  "I thought you might be one of the others."

  Ruso lowered the knife. "How's Daphne?"

  "I don't know," she said, "and I don't care." She bent down and heaved up some sort of bag. "This place is finished. I'm not staying around to take the blame for what they did to that girl."

  Ruso said, "Did they kill Asellina as well?"

  "That was Priscus. The gods alone know why That's what started all this. We had to find a replacement."

  "So you did a deal with Innocens?"

  "It wasn't me. I'd have had more sense. I worked my way up here, Ruso. Seventeen years in the trade: I know what I'm doing. Then Priscus went and bought the place and started interfering. Never paying full price for anything. I told him, if you're going to run a business like this, you have to invest. But he wouldn't listen."

  Ruso slid the knife back into the sheath. "Was it you who put Saufeia to work?"

  "We all make mistakes, Doctor."

  "True."

  "I should have left when Priscus took over."

  "Yes," agreed Ruso, "I know exactly what you mean."

  He was on his way to the end room when he heard the squeal of a hinge out in the yard and then the gate slam shut. Ahead of him was the angry, scratchy cry of a newborn child.

  75

  TILLA SAT BACK against the wall, clutching her arm to try and ease the ache. Beside her, Daphne lay exhausted but alive on the bed that was soaked with blood and the water of the birth. Phryne was kneeling by the bed, holding a blanket around the squalling and slimy child they had laid on its mother's belly. Now that the thick cord joining mother and baby was no longer blue, the other girl tied it as Tilla instructed. They had not been able to find anything suitable in the room, so the cord was strangled with the leather thongs removed from her boots.

  Tilla leaned forward and wiped her hands on the filthy bedspread. Her work was almost done. Soon the men would come back for her, and she would have to decide what to do.

  So many days had passed since she had met the medicus, and yet her choice was the same as before. She was not afraid of death. The poison had failed her today on the road. Startled by her capture, she had not thought to reach for it before they tied her arms. Now, at last, she understood. The goddess had kept her in this world not to save Phryne but to welcome Daphne's child. Praying now for Daphne who had been kind to her, she closed her eyes.

  She was wakened by the medicus's voice outside the door. Startled, she rubbed her eyes. She must not sleep. They knew now about the poison that was her freedom. As soon as she dropped her guard, they would take it away from her. She had to leave for the next world tonight, or find a reason to linger in this one.

  He was banging on the door now. Calling her. The girls were looking at her, and at the bar across the door, not sure what to do.

  She straightened her back. "Are you alone?"

  "Yes."

  She nodded to the girls. "Let him in."

  Once inside he stood awkwardly, eyeing the figure on the bed. "Is she—"

  "She is alive."

  He said, "You did well."

  "I need your knife," she said.

  Without question, he crouched down and slid it along the floorboards. After she had severed the cord, Phryne swaddled the child in the shawl they had found in the trunk under the window and she settled it on its mother's breast, where it finally fell silent. "Be proud of yourself," she told Daphne in their own tongue. "Be proud of your son."

  When she turned back she saw the medicus was resheathing his knife. "There's blood on that bandage," he said, frowning at her arm.

  As she said, "Not mine," Daphne gave a soft moan. Tilla slid her hand under the blanket and felt the belly harden.

  "Soon you can rest," Tilla told her, lifting the blanket up to see if the afterbirth was coming yet. "You are a strong girl. You have done w
ell."

  They were waiting in silence when they heard footsteps outside. The one with the odd hair appeared in the doorway, trembling and asking the medicus to look at a wound on his head. As usual, he was full of words. This time he was talking about working out a plan.

  "We can extend the terms of the loan," he was saying as the medicus lifted one of the lamps to get a better view of the back of the head, from which a trickle of blood glittered black in the light. The wound had not stopped his talking. "You can keep the girl," he continued, "she's too much trouble." Tilla turned her head to listen. "Too much trouble" surely meant they were talking about her.

  He was sounding excited now. "We can say Stichus killed Bassus in a fight over the takings—"

  The medicus interrupted to say the wound needed cleaning before he could examine it, and he would have no part of killing anyone.

  "No, Ruso, no. You don't understand. It was self-defense. You saw him attack me earlier."

  The afterbirth was coming now. "Good girl," she urged, crouching to watch. It was important that it should be whole. Daphne should not be allowed to slip into the next world now. Not after such a struggle.

  Daphne groaned.

  "Good girl," Tilla repeated, wishing the men would have the sense to leave them in peace. "It is nearly done."

  "It was terrible," the one with many words was insisting, as if anything could be terrible compared to what the girl on the bed had just been through. "I was frightened for my life. He grabbed me by the throat and banged my head against the counter. A stone counter, Ruso. I could have died! I still feel dizzy."

  She glanced around. The medicus was scratching his ear in the way he did when he was uncertain. He said, "Are you telling me—?"

  "I was all on my own with him! You deserted me, you abandoned a fellow officer . . . I had to wait till he went to find a drink and get a knife from the kitchen. It was terrible!"

  "You stabbed Bassus with a kitchen knife? Gods in heaven, Priscus! Let me past, I'll have to—"