Medicus mi-1

by Ruth Downie

  She was silent now. Her hands were shaking as she lifted them to cover her face.

  "He's gone," she moaned, "my little boy, my little boy, my baby.."

  Ruso shifted a pile of clothes and a hairbrush and seated himself on the only chair. "I've seen him," he said. "He's with a visiting trader."

  Chloe shuddered, then managed to say, "Is he all right? He'll be frightened."

  "He wanted me to-"

  He was about to explain about the message when the door burst open and Stichus announced, "I know where he is!"

  "With the trader," groaned Chloe.

  "I'm going down there to get him."

  "I haven't got any money," said Chloe, reaching down to unfasten her ankle chain. "I've got this, and a bit saved up, but it's nothing."

  "Don't matter," announced Stichus, "me and Merula have had words. I'm leaving. I get my share after closing time tonight. I'll go down there, put a bid on the boy, and pay up in the morning."

  Chloe reached for his hand. "You'd do that? Really?"

  Stichus grinned. It was not a pretty sight, but Ruso guessed it was kindly meant. The man, whom he had always thought of as Bassus's shadow, was showing commendable initiative. There was only one problem.

  "They may not give you credit," he said. "There's a sign saying 'cash only'"

  Stichus stared at him as if only now noticing he was there. Finally he said, "Fine," and turned on his heel. "It's my money; I'll have it now."

  When he had gone Ruso said, "Your son says to tell you that Bassus told Merula about the bad oysters."

  "I know that already, bless him," said Chloe. She sniffed and groped for something to wipe her nose on, finally settling on a soggy ball of rag that she shook open and applied to her blotchy face. "It's all my fault."

  Ruso, relieved that he was no longer being blamed, said nothing.

  "I should never have said anything about Saufeia's stupid letter," said Chloe, unexpectedly. "Then you wouldn't be poking your nose in and asking questions…" She paused to sniff. "And Bassus wouldn't know I'd talked. He told Merula about Lucco's silly trick with the oysters so she'd sell him. And he did it to get back at me."

  Ruso let out a long sigh. It was his turn to lower his head into his hands. He should have had more sense than to question Bassus about the letter. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just trying to find out what's happened to Tilla."

  Chloe stretched herself out on the bunk and lay with her eyes open, gazing at the slats holding the mattress above. "I knew it would all go wrong in the end," she said.

  From beyond the kitchen door there was a crash and a shout of exasperation. Ruso took a deep breath. He stared at his toes. He wished he were somewhere else. Another country Another lifetime. Anywhere he might never have met the girl he called Tilla. If he had ignored the fuss around the fountain, none of this would have happened. But Chloe was right: He had to interfere. And from that moment everything had gone wrong. It was as if he was cursed from the moment those beautiful eyes had… gods above! Now he was starting to believe all that rubbish himself.

  Stichus reappeared, looking angry. "I can't get the cash," he said. "Miserable cow says it's locked in a strongroom and she hasn't got the key. I'm going down there anyway."

  "Stop!" Ruso was reaching for his purse. "How much are you expecting from your wages?"

  Stichus waved a hand to indicate that anything Ruso could offer was nothing compared to his need. "A bloody sight more than you've got."

  For answer, Ruso knelt on the floor and upended his purse. Chloe gasped.

  Ruso glanced at Stichus. The man opened his mouth and closed it again as if he had lost the power of words.

  "I'm about to repay a loan," explained Ruso. "But that can wait a day." Since Tilla had vanished, Priscus could hardly seize her if the Aesculapian loan was not paid on time.

  When Stichus had hurried out with the money, Chloe said, "I'm sorry for the things I said. I think you do try to do the right thing."

  "I'm beginning to wonder why I bother."

  He glanced at her. Chloe had managed a weak smile.

  "I examined Saufeia's body after they pulled her out of the river," he told her. "Someone said to me that no one should die like that. And it's true."

  Chloe sat up and put her bare feet on the floor. "If I knew where Tilla was," she said, "I would tell you. I don't. But I can tell you some of what you want to know. If you promise, really really promise, to keep quiet about it now? You won't tell anyone or ask any more questions?"

  "If it will help someone, I can't stay silent."

  "How can it? It's about Saufeia, and she's dead."

  "Very well."

  "I don't know who killed her in the end. But I do know the thing they're so frightened of everyone finding out. Saufeia was a Roman citizen."

  Ruso felt himself blink. "A citizen?" he repeated. A citizen could not be a slave, let alone a slave forced to work as a prostitute. "How could she be…?"

  "What she told us-what she started to tell everybody before Bassus gave her one of his little private coaching sessions-was, she was a centurion's daughter who'd run away with her boyfriend after a fight with her stepfather."

  A centurion's daughter. So that explained the smattering of education. And the knowledge of army expletives.

  "Then she fell out with the boyfriend-that was the one thing she was good at, falling out with people-and he dumped her on the road. She had no money, of course. So she went to an inn to ask for help and got picked up by some lowlife who said he'd take her home. Well, of course he didn't. So she ended up here.

  "As soon as she got here she started whining about who she was, but Merula was short-staffed so she told her to shut up and they put her to work. They must have known they'd done a stupid thing, but by then they were in serious trouble anyway, so they just kept on serving her to the customers and everybody was too scared to talk because Merula said we'd all be arrested and whipped. Of course they couldn't ever let her out. She must have realized they were just going to work her to death. Or sell her on to someplace worse." Chloe gave a bitter laugh. "Don't believe any of those stories about girls from places like this being rescued by men who fall in love with them. I've been here longer than all of them, and I can tell you, it doesn't happen."

  "Tilla told me about Daphne's punishment."

  "Daphne should have had more sense. Most of the men we meet aren't as soft as poor old Decimus."

  "She was trying to copy Asellina?"

  "I always thought it was odd that Asellina didn't get in touch," said Chloe. "The truth is, the only way you can go from here is down."

  Ruso wondered if the men who came to relax with these girls real ized the true ghastliness they were paying to support. "You've been fortunate."

  "I've been determined," she said. "I have a child to think of." She dropped her head into her hands. "What if someone outbids him?"

  "He has plenty of money," said Ruso, whose own unspoken question was, What if he runs off with it? "Tell me some more about Saufeia."

  Chloe nodded. "The cook took pity on her and got her some writing things. She wrote a letter to the legate at the fort asking to be sent home. The cook was supposed to deliver it, but Bassus saw it and said he'd take it instead. We all thought she'd get a beating when he read it, but it looked as though he'd just gone and delivered it, 'cause a couple of days later some official lackey arrived here with a letter for her. Said he wouldn't hand it over to anybody else. She burned it as soon as she'd read it and she wouldn't tell anybody what was in it, but I got the idea she thought somebody was coming to save her."

  Ruso scratched his head. "But if someone was coming to get her, why did she run away? Surely if she'd waited they'd have sent an officer down with a whole squad, made arrests…"

  "Like they tried with Phryne."

  Ruso scratched his ear. "I truly meant well, Chloe. I was told the child was kidnapped."

  "You were told that by Tilla?"

  He nodded.

&n
bsp; "She should have known better."

  Ruso shrugged. "She was convinced it was true. She was cooking up potions to help."

  "I meant, she should have known better than to tell you. Of course Phryne was kidnapped."

  "What?"

  "I tell you, if they ever get their hands on that Claudius Innocens, he's a dead man. After Saufeia you'd think they'd learn, but he offered them Phryne cheap and they didn't ask too many questions. And nobody 'round here was going to say anything, not after everything that had happened."

  "But I was told the second spear questioned Phryne in private!"

  Chloe pursed her lips. "Your second spear's men aren't very bright. One of them told our lovely management why he was here before he sent them to fetch her. So they had time to have a word with her before they brought her downstairs. They told her a string of lies about how much trouble she'd be in if she didn't say what they wanted. She was too scared to know who to trust."

  "So where did Bassus get her documents?"

  "Bassus and Innocens between them," said Chloe, "must know every forger in the province."

  Ruso shook his head slowly from side to side, as if trying to settle all this jumbled information in his brain. "Tilla told me I was poking about in a wasps' nest," he observed.

  "We did try to warn you."

  Ruso frowned. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me Saufeia knew help was coming but she still ran away?"

  "No," said Chloe, "that's not what I'm saying."

  "It was staged!" said Ruso suddenly. "They couldn't get rid of her here without everyone knowing so they forged an official letter telling her someone would meet her outside."

  Chloe gave a weak smile. "Does it take you this long to diagnose all your patients?"

  "Without the letter or any witnesses to the murder, nobody can prove anything."

  "Of course," Chloe agreed. "Saufeia was stupid, but they aren't. The letter probably held instructions for her to burn it."

  "Which she did because she thought she was keeping it secret." Ruso paused. "This is only a theory. It could be wrong."

  "It isn't," said Chloe. "Listen. They've always let me out because they knew I'd come back for Lucco. But after Asellina went one or two girls started to get ideas, so they tightened up. I'm the only one who gets past them now. All that stuff about escorting girls for their own safety? It's rubbish. It's so nobody makes a run for it. Every slave here is in chains, Doctor. They just aren't the sort you can see. Saufeia wouldn't have got out of here unless they wanted her to."

  "The doormen let her out, followed her, and then killed her."

  Chloe shrugged. "I don't know. If they didn't, they know who did. It doesn't much matter, does it? Nobody knows who her family was or what her real name was, and it won't bring her-" She broke off to look up as the door opened. "Lucco!" she shrieked, leaping to her feet and pulling the boy into her arms. "Oh, Lucco, my baby!"

  Stichus, standing in the doorway, caught Ruso's eye and grinned. "Bet you thought I'd run off with the cash," he said.

  "It never crossed my-" Ruso's lie was stifled by an enthusiastic kiss from Chloe, who then flung herself at Stichus in a similar fashion before seizing her son again and ordering him to say thank you.

  "It was nothing," said Ruso, finding his mouth stuck in a foolish grin and relieved that at last he seemed to have gotten something right. He was heading for the door when Stichus said, "Stay a minute, Doc, all right? I got something to say and I want a proper witness." He stepped in and closed the door.

  Chloe glanced at him, puzzled.

  "I should have said this a long time ago," announced Stichus. He placed a hand on Lucco's head. "I don't know what your mother's told you but I know she knows. And she's never said nothing to me but I know she knows I know too."

  Lucco, Ruso felt, was making a good job of trying to look impressed without having the faintest idea what his rescuer was talking about.

  Stichus cleared his throat. "This here young man," he said, addressing Chloe and Ruso, "is my legal property as of today. But I don't think of him that way. You and I both know" (here he glanced at Chloe, who was looking apprehensive) "that this here young man is my own flesh and blood."

  Lucco's eyes widened. He turned to his mother. "Am I?"

  Chloe reached up and tweaked Stichus's fading red hair, then grinned at Lucco. "You never guessed?"

  Lucco scratched his head, giving his father-who now seemed not to know what to do-a hint to remove the hand.

  "That all right with you, then?" Stichus asked him.

  "I knew there was something," said Lucco. "You were always nicer to me than the others were."

  Ruso, not needed here and due at the hospital, tried to slip around Stichus toward the door. Stichus's hand landed on the latch before he got there. "Right," he announced, "busy night ahead, got to get back to work. You coming, son?"

  After they were gone Chloe took Ruso's hand. "I'm grateful, Doctor. I know you won't let me show you how much, but I'll see he pays you back in the morning."

  "It was nothing," Ruso repeated. "I have to go now, there are patients…"

  "If Tilla was here I'd ask her to put a blessing on you."

  "If Tilla were here I wouldn't have had the money," he observed."The gods move in strange ways."

  "They do," agreed Chloe. "Who would have guessed that for all these years old Stichus has been thinking my boy was his son?"

  Ruso paused with his hand on the door latch. "Isn't he?"

  Chloe grinned. "He is now," she said.

  70

  Tilla was singing quietly to herself. The sack of provisions swung and bumped against the small of her back with each step. Its weight was a pleasure. It meant independence. There was no one out here to give her orders or ask where she was going.

  She was not entirely sure where she was going herself. After two years she had little idea whether anything was left of her home. Whatever she found, though, would be better than the place she had left: a place built by foreign warriors who fought not for honor but for money and hid their shame by bullying everyone else. In the end even the medicus had turned out to be little better than his companions. She had begun to think he could be trusted. She had even begun to grow fond of him. Now she realized what a fool she had been. The time she had spent with Sabrann had opened her eyes anew to the twisted thinking of the emperor's men and all those who served them. She was lucky to have escaped before she had been hopelessly corrupted like Merula, a woman who survived by trampling on others. Or Chloe, who had no vision of anything beyond the walls of the bar.

  She wished she had been able to bring the child with her: the one they had called Phryne. When she reached home she would spread the word of what had happened to her. Perhaps the child's people would send warriors. Perhaps not. There were cowards among the Brigantes too. Elders who acted out of fear and called it being sensible, or abandoned their own ways and called it progress. The taint of Rome was like rot spreading through a crate of apples.

  There was a dip in the road ahead. She could see the tops of wooden rails that must be the sides of a bridge. Beyond them, set well back-the Romans were afraid of ambushes, and always chopped down everything close to the road-stood a massive tree that was the right shape for an oak. That must be the marker for the track Sabrann had told her to follow.

  As she looked, two cavalry horses appeared over the brow of the next rise. Tilla tugged the sack into a new position on her shoulder and kept an eye on the riders, who were progressing toward her at a leisurely trot. She slowed, not wanting to meet them on the narrow bridge.

  It occurred to her that if she had a horse, she could make the journey far more easily. The weak arm would make it hard to mount, but once she was up, she would manage one-handed. She was a good rider. She had been allowed to ride her father's horses as a child. Perhaps someone would lend her a pony. Perhaps, if they wouldn't, she would wait until no one was looking and help herself.

  She heard the clump of hoofbeats on
the wooden bridge. She kept walking, head down, close to the shoulder so the horses would have plenty of room to pass.

  Something inside the sack was poking into her back. As she shifted the weight the sack pulled at the fabric on her shoulder. She felt the gray hood slip backward. Quickly, she lifted her right hand to pull it forward again, but the cloth was caught under the weight of the sack and her weak arm did not have the strength to tug it free.

  The horses were only about thirty paces away now. She turned to one side, swung the sack to the ground, and bent over, busying herself with adjusting the hood and pinning it back into place. She could hear the approaching crunch of hooves on the gravel. The men were talking to each other.

  The hood was back in place. The horses were almost level with her now. She slid her right arm in under the cloak, realizing as she did so that two or three inches of grimy bandage had been poking out of the end of her sleeve.

  The horses were next to her. The riders were still chatting as if they had noticed nothing. The bandage had probably looked like a glimpse of undertunic.

  They had passed. She grabbed the neck of the sack and swung it back over her shoulder.

  Behind her, the hooifbeats faltered and began to grow louder. The riders were coming back.

  "Halt!"

  Tilla froze.

  "What's your name, girl?"

  She turned, keeping her head bowed in a pretense of respect.

  "Brica, sir."

  "Brica, eh? What are you doing all the way out here, Brica?"

  Tilla stared at the polished hooves of the front horse. "I go to visit my aunt, sir. She is sick."

  The second rider moved around to take up a position beside her.

  "What do you think?" said the first rider to him. "She look like a Brica to you?"

  "Hm." There was a creak of leather as the second rider bent down from his saddle to examine her. "Chin up, girl."

  Tilla lifted her head a fraction.

  "You know what she looks like to me?" offered the first rider, circling his horse behind her and nudging her forward into the middle of the road. "She looks like 'Attractive female, age about 20.' "