Semper Fidelis (20 page)

^{HE HAMMERING ON}
the door was louder the second time, which was just as well, because it covered the sound of Lucios shouting, “Dada! Dada gone!” as Victor vanished into the loft. Tilla grabbed the child and swept him up into the air, whispering, “Time to play bears sleeping in the trees!” while Corinna tried to peer through a crack between the planks. “Some Roman,” announced Corinna, stepping back. “It’s all right, he’s gone.”

Tilla wanted to say,
What if it is a message for me?
but when she opened the door, there was no one there.
They were about to sit down when someone rattled the back gate and a voice shouted in Latin, “Hello! Anyone in?”
The sleeping bear came down from the trees faster than he expected. Tilla paused to kiss him on the forehead, then rushed out of the back door, leaned across the gate, and flung her arms around the visitor. “Valens! Oh, Valens, it is good to see a friend!”
He stepped back, holding her by the shoulders and looking at her. “Tilla, dear girl, you look exhausted.”
“It is not me who is in trouble, it is—”
“I know, I know. I’ve just seen him.”
Tilla turned to introduce him, but Corinna had slipped back into the house.
Valens said, “They don’t seem awfully welcoming around here. I just went to ask for you at the mansio and the chap couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. Where can we talk?”

The owner of the bar brought them very watered wine with a drop of honey and some sort of hard, flat cake. He apologized for the lack of choice, but his man had gone out of town in search of supplies: The locusts had stripped everything else last night. When he had gone, Tilla leaned across the table. “You have seen him. How is he?”

Valens shook his head sadly. “It was a shock to see him in that state, I have to admit. I’ve recommended they improve his diet and let him out for exercise. How long has he been like this?”

“They locked him up this morning. They won’t let me see him. What will happen?”
“You mustn’t despair. I’m going to try and talk to some people before I leave, see if we can get him a medical discharge.”
“You think they will let him out?”
“They might allow you to take him back to Gaul. He may well improve, you know. These things often burn themselves out.”
She shook her head. “I know you are trying to offer comfort, and I thank you. But you have been out of the Legion for a long time. The army will not forgive something like this.”
There was an awkward silence. Both picked up the unappetizing cake. Valens ventured a bite. Tilla noticed the scalded-like-a-pig woman and a friend staring at them from across the street. She waved and forced a smile, and they moved on.
Valens carried on chewing for a while, then pushed the remains of the cake away. “A whole one of those could be fatal.”
Tilla remembered to ask, “What are you doing here?”
“The emperor is here, the procurator is the emperor’s man, and I’m the emperor’s man’s doctor. We arrived this morning after a rather hasty journey. The wife would say hello if she knew I was seeing you.”
So he was still calling her “the wife.” It was as if he might change her at any moment and did not want the bother of remembering a new name. She said, “Please take my greetings to her and the boys.”
“I have to say,” said Valens, “that finding you here is one bright moment in rather a gruesome few days. I tried to persuade the procurator not to rush down here, but he insisted, even though he’s not well. Politics and friendship, you know. An irresistible force. Now it looks as though we’re going to be going straight back to the border again in the morning.”

Valens nodded. “I was sorry to see poor old Ruso like that. He got quite agitated when I left.”
“I think perhaps it is my fault,” Tilla confessed.
“Oh, no! Never. Every marriage has its troubles, you know. If you could blame this sort of thing on the wife, I’d have been driven over the edge years ago. No, it would have happened anyway. He’s lucky he has you to look out for him. But in time, with the right care, I see no reason why he shouldn’t make a complete recovery.”
Tilla frowned. “He is ill?”
“Dear girl, hasn’t anyone told you?”
“No.”
“I happened to spot him by the gates as we arrived this morning. To be frank, he wasn’t looking good. So I asked around. It seems he started to think he’d been sent to inspect the entire fort. He’s been breaking into buildings and spying on the maintenance crews. Countermanding other men’s orders, making accusations, and . . . well, they should have kept a closer eye on him last night. But you don’t think he would have spoken to Hadrian like that if he were in his right mind, do you?”
She wrapped her hands around the cup to stop them trembling. “There was no problem with his mind last time I saw him.”
Valens gave her the look he would have given a patient who had disagreed with his diagnosis. “He looked me in the eye and asked if I was dead, Tilla.”
“Oh.” Gripped by a sudden worry she said, “Is he thirsty? He was bitten by a dog.”
“It didn’t look like hydrophobia, no.”
She said, “I was the one who wanted him to appeal to the emperor. I thought it would help.”
Valens looked blank. “Help what?”

It occurred to Tilla later that if the local gossips had enjoyed seeing the wife of the murderous doctor breaking bread with a handsome stranger, they must be even more excited now that stranger and doctor’s wife had taken a long and unchaperoned walk together beside the river. The fact that stranger and wife kept a respectable distance would not, of course, be reported. Nor—and this was why they had gone there—would anything that they said to each other on that walk.

“So,” said Valens as they passed beneath the trailing willow on their return, “if it wasn’t Ruso who cut this chap’s throat— which I must say I found very hard to believe when they told me—who was it?”

“Plenty of people had a reason. But it was dark, and there was a lot of fighting going on. How can anyone know which of them did it?”
Valens sighed. “He really should have left all this alone until you got back to Deva. The recruits would have backed him up once the centurion wasn’t in a position to frighten them anymore.”
“He saw the boy jump from the roof,” she said. “And he was angry about the boy who might lose his arm. He could not stand by and watch a patient being treated that way. His student had the courage to write a report, and he did not want to let him down.”
Valens’s smile was brief but as handsome as ever. “He just can’t resist taking on other people’s problems, can he?”
“No,” said Tilla. “That is why I like him.”

^{E HAD TRIED}
shouting for Valens, but nobody took any notice apart from the guard, who yelled back that if he didn’t shut his face, they would come and do it for him. So he sat listening to the distant bellow of orders, the scrape of boots on stone, low voices outside, and the occasional sneeze. They should have sounded the change of watch by now. Perhaps he had missed it while he was asleep. Perhaps he had been too busy shouting.

He tried not to think about Tilla, waiting for a message that would never come. There was nothing he could do for her except try to keep her out of this. He should have stayed out of it himself.

Valens was going to tell everyone he was out of his mind.
Perhaps he was.
He squinted up at the window. Was the light fading, or was he imagining

it? He squirmed, careful not to knock over the bucket as he tried to arrange the blanket around his shoulders. He supposed he could lie down if he slid the chain through the ring so one hand was in the air. Maybe they would take the cuffs off at night.

Maybe they wouldn’t.
Maybe they would feed him.
Maybe the water was all he would get. He should have saved some. He tried the diversion of reciting all the bones in the body, working down the left side to the toes and then back up. Each toe and finger separately, just to waste time. He lost his place somewhere in the right hand.

Footsteps outside. Someone sneezed as the lock scraped open. Ruso’s hopes of explaining everything to Valens were dashed by the sight of a nondescript figure in a plain tunic who could have passed almost anywhere unnoticed. Unfortunately there was no avoiding him here, and he was the only person Ruso could think of at the moment whom he did not want to see.
Metellus waited until he heard the lock fall into place. “Ruso.”
This did not seem to require an answer.
“Your friend is doing his best to convince them you’re insane.”
“No doubt hampered by my history of violence to fellow officers.”
Metellus was either smiling or baring his teeth: It was hard to tell in the gloom. “I felt the events of our last meeting were relevant to the case.”
“I’d do it again.”
“You aren’t helping yourself, Ruso.”
“Get me out of here. You know I didn’t do it.”
Metellus shook his head. “Sadly, I know nothing at all. I wasn’t there. And as I’m sure I must have explained to you in the past, it doesn’t matter what really happens. What matters is what people believe. Can you imagine what it would do for discipline if the common soldiers believe a man can murder a centurion under the nose of his emperor and escape punishment by pretending to be mad?”
“If they find out that a man who’s trying to help them is punished for a murder he didn’t commit, that won’t do much for discipline, either.”
“Oh, Ruso.” Metellus sighed. “Sometimes you don’t seem to grasp how the world works. Those men out there won’t care who gets the blame, as long as it isn’t them. Believe me, if I thought it would do any good, I would vouch for you. But the Praetorian prefect needs someone to punish. And you’ve made yourself very unpopu lar here. I imagine he’s keeping you stored away in case he can’t find a better candidate.”
“You imagine?” said Ruso. “Have you spoken to him?”
“If he wants you to know his plans, no doubt he’ll tell you.”
“Answer the question, you slippery bastard.”
“There’s no need to resort to insults. The question you should be asking is about the welfare of the lovely Tilla.”
“Keep away from her.”
Metellus opened both hands as if to demonstrate that he bore neither malice nor weaponry. “She has no need of my help. She has the handsome tribune to protect her now.”
“Out!” The chains pulled him up short. “Get out!”
The guard must have been listening outside the door. Metellus’s teeth appeared for a moment, then he was gone. He had, Ruso knew, achieved exactly what he wanted. And knowing that was even more infuriating.

The substance in the bowl (he would have to slurp it or dig it out with his fingers, since he had no spoon) reminded him of the slop they had been feeding to Austalis. The surface had the texture of goatskin with wet cow pie underneath.

He put it to one side. Stretched out and with his pelvis twisted to one side, he managed to kick the door. “Hey! You with the sneeze?”
No reply, but was that the scrape of a footstep outside the door?
“When you get off duty, go over to the hospital and ask them to give you some bay leaves to sniff. Keep your eyes shut when you do it.”
No reply.
“And while you’re over there, tell them to get the procurator’s doctor to look at Austalis.”
Still no reply.
He had done his best. He sat back and contemplated the contents of the bowl, wondering how long it would be before he was hungry enough to eat it.

“I know,” said Valens, lowering the lamp to inspect the floor before committing himself. “Tilla explained. But I’m sticking to the diagnosis. It’s your best chance.”

“Worried about you.” Valens tugged across enough of the rough gray blanket to sit on.
Ruso felt the warmth of his friend’s shoulder as they both leaned back against the wall in the cramped space. “I want you to take her with you when you go.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“Just in case.”
Valens said, “She won’t want to come.”
“Use your charm on her. It works on every other bloody woman.”
Valens delved into the folds of his tunic and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. “I brought you this.”
While Ruso gnawed the meat from a chicken leg and wished it had belonged to something bigger—a turkey, a swan, an ostrich, a horse—Valens explained the plans that he was no longer important enough to be told.
“Practically everyone’s clearing out in the morning. Hadrian’s taking his own people and every spare man he can find up to the wall site, but the empress says she’s had enough, so she’s going across to Deva to visit a friend and wait for him there.”
Ruso tried to muster an interest in the imperial travel plans, and failed. “What about me?”
“I’m coming to that. Clarus will have to send half his Praetorians off with Hadrian, so they want what’s left of the Twentieth to bolster the escort for Sabina. They’ve put some chap called Dexter in charge of the recruits. I’d imagine you’ll be going with them.”
At least he would be traveling with his own unit. Valens would be traveling north with the emperor’s party, taking Tilla toward her own people and safely out of Accius’s way. It was not good, but it was the best he could hope for. He said, “Geminus had it coming, you know. He and his pals were putting the recruits into danger and betting on the outcomes. Then they tried to silence the complainers.”
“I know.”
“Did Tilla say if she’d found out anything useful?”
“Not yet. Clarus’s men are pressing on with the questioning tonight, but they don’t seem to be getting anything sensible out of anyone, either. It was dark, and there was a riot.”
Ruso supposed he ought to be grateful that Clarus was bothering to investigate at all, although his witnesses would not be. People who knew nothing did not suddenly discover the truth just because they were frightened of pain. They became people who made things up, and the more desperate the witnesses, the more false signposts began to clutter the road to understanding.
“I’d imagine they all want it to be me,” Ruso observed. “None of the commanders will want his own men blamed, and the Sixth won’t want to start here by executing any of the locals.” He frowned. “In fact, if I weren’t myself, I’d be hoping it were me too.”
Valens did not contradict him.
“Thanks for coming back, anyway.”
“When you get out, you owe me four denarii. I had to give the guards one each.”
“You were robbed.”
“I know. And I can’t stay long. The procurator has a bad attack of gout and he’s exhausted after rushing down here. I need to be around if he calls me.”
Ruso swallowed. Valens had his own duties. It would be neither appropriate nor dignified to grab him and beg him not to leave. Instead he said, “So you won’t be a provincial much longer?”
Valens gave a modest shrug. “The wife didn’t want to bring the boys up in Britannia.”
“Understandable.”
“If Fortune’s kind to us, we’ll be in Rome by autumn.”
“Well done.”
Valens retrieved the chicken bones and the cloth. “You’re not a bad surgeon, you know. If things had gone differently . . .”
“I’m a better surgeon than you are,” Ruso pointed out, alarmed by his friend’s sudden generosity. “I always was.”
“Bollocks.”
Ruso smiled.
“I wish I could travel with you, old chap, really I do. I’m not happy leaving you like this. If there were something else I could do . . .”
You could shout louder. Tell the truth to everyone you meet. Scrawl all over the walls of Headquarters, RUSO IS INNOCENT. Harass people until they listen. Tell everyone what an evil bastard Metellus is. And tell Accius if he goes near my wife, I’ll kill him.
“No,” Ruso said. “You’ve done all you can.”
“You know what it’s like. Always people waiting to push you aside. If I don’t go with the Procurator—”
“No, absolutely. You must go. It’s a good opportunity for you.”
“If it wasn’t for the family . . .”
“Of course.”
They had run out of words. Perhaps Valens too blamed the awkwardness of their parting embrace on the restriction of the chains.
Ruso remembered something. “I don’t think Metellus will bother Tilla now that he’s got me locked up, but watch out for him.”
“I promise.”
Valens was on his feet, and then he and the lamp were gone.
Ruso swallowed hard and began to count bones again in the dark. Then when he reached the right elbow he stopped counting bones and began to count the number of suspects in the murder of Centurion Geminus. Out of the two thousand or so soldiers and the untold number of civilians who had been in Eboracum last night, the only ones he could definitely eliminate were the recruits, Hadrian, Tilla, and himself.
And now that he thought about it, for most of the eve ning he had no idea where Tilla had been.