Terra Incognita: A Novel of the Roman Empire Page 14

  “With your warhorse between the shafts of the cart.”

  “One day I will have a warhorse,” he promised.

  “You have been saying that for a long time.”

  He sighed. “When I think of the horses we rode when your Da was alive . . .”

  “Trenus kept Cloud for a while,” she said. “I tried to steal her and ride home.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got lost. His men caught us.”

  “Bastard,” muttered Rianorix. “You can never trust the Votadini. What Trenus did to your family was an outrage. Did he apologize when he released you?”

  “Trenus did not release me,” she said. “It is a long story. I will save it for tomorrow.”

  His hand sought hers. “It is not easy to remain strong when your enemies prosper,” he said. “Your family was kind to me. I came here and rebuilt the house in their honor. And now you are home, we can begin again.”

  After a moment she wrested her hand free. “You are very thin,” she said. “Was the harvest bad?”

  “I am fasting.”

  “You have made a vow?”

  “I am sworn to protect someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “That was why the fight happened at the bar. There is a soldier who shamed this person and will not pay compensation.”

  “Then the soldier must be punished,” she agreed, feeling the warm muscles of his shoulders begin to relax beneath her fingertips. “Have you spoken to his officer?”

  His body jerked. “His officer?”

  “Sometimes if a man needs to be disciplined—”

  He chuckled. “Daughter of Lugh, you have been away a long time. Have you forgotten how things are here?” He touched his split lip. “This is the only answer you get from the army when you ask for justice.”

  She said nothing. Her experience with the gate guards suggested he was right. On the other hand, Rianorix’s efforts to negotiate were probably as well-meant but clumsy as his flattery.

  He said, “What does my eye look like?”

  “People will be afraid of you,” she said. “Small children will run away crying.”

  The half smile returned. “Is it very bad?”

  “The swelling will go down by tomorrow. The bruise will get worse.” She traced a faint line around the base of his eye socket with her forefinger. “It is all around here, black and purple. And part of the white is red.”

  “This is nothing.”

  “It does not look like nothing.”

  “It is nothing to what they have done to others.” He indicated the graze along her cheek. “We make a matching pair.”

  “I upset a baker,” she explained. “He was trying to cheat my—” She stopped herself. “He was asking more than I wanted to pay.”

  “Did you win?”

  “No.”

  The bloodshot eye gave her a glance that was probably more alarming than he intended. “Three winters gone by, daughter of Lugh, and neither of us is much the wiser.”

  “And what else has happened while I have been away?”

  “The usual things,” he said. “The harvests have been poor, but they still take the taxes. What little people have is being saved for the feast at the Gathering, but nearly everyone is running out now. Except the soldiers in the fort. The emperor’s men will be the last to starve.”

  She dared not confess that she too would be one of the last to starve. She sat him up and wrapped strips torn from an old linen undershirt around his wounds. Then she lay beside him on the bracken bed and gazed into the dying firelight, thinking of how very differently things had turned out from the way they had expected, and of how sad it would be to hear the old songs and stories at the summer Gathering without the family they had both loved. The family that had been sent so violently to the next world.

  “Their bodies were treated with honor,” he said suddenly, thinking the same thing. “At least we could do that.”

  “But you had no body for me. Why did you believe I was dead?”

  “Catavignus said you must have been inside when the house burned down. There would be nothing but ash.”

  “Surely someone tried to find out?”

  “I asked him what he was doing. He said he sent messages north to ask if you were a prisoner, and heard nothing.” He paused. “Ash has never been treated with such reverence.”

  “But I was waiting!”

  “If you had sent a message to say you were alive, we would have come.”

  “If I could have sent a message I would have come myself!” She rolled over. “And what about Trenus?” The memory of her captor made her shudder. “I saw no sign of punishment for Trenus, and he was the leader.”

  “I said we should gather up men and act. Catavignus said we should leave Trenus to the army because he is a Votadini and we mustn’t start a war between the tribes.”

  She sat up. “They were the ones who started it!”

  “I know,” he said, his hand seeking hers again. “I know. But Catavignus was next of kin, so his wishes were respected.” After a moment he added, “Lie down, you are letting the cold air in.”

  She threw herself back down onto the bed. “Did you fast against Trenus?”

  “Of course. We made a curse against him, and I fasted until your cousin persuaded me to stop. She said five lives were enough to lose.”

  Aemilia. She might have guessed. “So while you were cursing and starving, what did the army do about Trenus raiding and murdering on the land they are supposed to protect?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I know what I think. I am asking you.”

  “You know how it is. They’re only interested if one of them is involved. Or if we don’t pay the taxes. They sent some men up to look at what was left of the house.”

  “And did nothing, I suppose.”

  “And did nothing,” he agreed. “But things are beginning to change now. You will see when you come to the Gathering. The gods are waking. People are remembering where they hid their courage. The army is learning to fear us again.”

  She wondered whether to tell him about the god in the yard, but he would ask questions and she was not sure she understood it herself yet. Instead she said, “You must be careful. Frightened men are dangerous.”

  “It is the Romans and their friends who should be careful. A leader has come at last who hunts with the power of the gods. The army cannot catch him, and they never know where he will strike next.”

  “He struck today,” said Tilla. “One legionary is very badly hurt and others are injured.”

  “Really? How badly hurt?”

  “He has lost a leg. He may not live.”

  “A man from the legions!” Rianorix chuckled. “Well, that’s one that won’t be bothering us for a while.”

  “He had just become a father,” she said.

  Rianorix observed that it was a pity he had not been injured before he had time to spawn. “The soldiers are afraid. They are looking for friends. I hear they are fetching Trenus down to dine with the new governor when he comes to visit.”

  “What?”

  “Daughter of Lugh, this blanket will only cover us both if you lie still.”

  She pushed a fold of blanket down into the gap between them. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “Trenus is a head man of a friendly tribe.”

  “He is a thief and a murderer!”

  “He’s useful to them. His people lie between the army and the tribes they never managed to conquer.”

  “I know that,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I had to live there.”

  A log tumbled in the fire, sending up a fountain of sparks.

  He said, “I thought about you often, daughter of Lugh. I prayed to meet you in the next world so that I could ask your pardon for being too late to save you.”

  “Did you come to help?”

  “As soon as I heard the alarm. When I got here the hous
e was a furnace, and you were gone.”

  She supposed he had done his best. Under the circumstances. Believing that she was dead and that it was not his place to overrule her kin and seek vengeance. “Well,” she said. “I am home now.”

  He circled his fingertips lightly on the back of her hand. “And even more beautiful than I remembered.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I am also very tired, and if you move, the bandages will shift and all my work will be wasted.”

  His hand slid across her thigh. “Do you remember when we did it just by lying still and—”

  “No,” she lied. “Go to sleep.”

  26

  WHATEVER HIS INEPTITUDE at managing staff, it seemed Thessalus was a competent medic. By the time Ruso had finished an evening tour of the wards, admired his predecessor’s handiwork on the splinted leg, and diagnosed the malingerers as in need of various gruesome therapies that he promised to administer first thing in the morning, the long hours of the spring day were at last coming to an end. He needed to visit Thessalus, but he was more immediately concerned with what had happened to Tilla. Quite possibly she had gone to visit her family, or been called to deliver a baby, but surely she would have left a message—or at least the supper she was supposed to be bringing—at the gate?

  The fort had the customary four entrances, and in the customary fashion the information Ruso wanted was at the last one he tried. He had two questions, but as soon as he introduced himself the gate guard did not stop to find out what they were. Instead, the man groped inside the folds of his tunic and handed Ruso a coin. “I didn’t mean no offense, sir. It was all just a bit of a joke. Only she took umbrage and walked off before I could explain.”

  “Ah,” said Ruso, imagining the scene.

  “And I asked if she wanted to leave a message, but she didn’t. And I couldn’t let her in without a gate pass. So if you could let her have the money back, sir, and tell her it was all just a bit of fun?”

  Ruso glanced down at the profile of the late emperor Trajan and back up at the less impressive head of a sentry with an odd shadow under his nostrils that turned out to be a vigorous sprouting of black hairs.

  “Next time,” he said, “just take a message when you’re asked. And if you don’t want this to go any farther, try to be a little more helpful about something else. I need to know about an emergency call for the doctor that came in last night.”

  The guard, who had not been on duty at the time, went to fetch the watch captain. He returned with the captain and a youth who looked barely old enough to be sent around the corner to buy a pound of figs, let alone serve overseas with the army.

  “Oh yes, sir!” the youth exclaimed in answer to Ruso’s question. “I saw the doctor and Gambax come in before curfew. I remember because Gambax was drunk.”

  The watch captain glared at him.

  “And then Doctor Thessalus went out on his horse and I remember thinking I was glad I wasn’t ill, sir, because—”

  “The officer doesn’t want to know what you were thinking!” interrupted the watch captain. “This is the army, not a bloody philosophy club.” He glanced at Ruso. “Sorry, sir. He’s new.”

  Ruso said, “I’m trying to find out who took the message calling for a doctor.” Realizing this sounded like a threat, he added, “The patient wanted to say thank you.” He hoped this did not sound as lame to his listeners as it did to him.

  “Would that be the call for Doctor Thessalus or the call for Gambax, sir?”

  “There was only one call, surely?”

  “I don’t know, sir. We didn’t get either of them. You’d have to ask at the other gates. But Gambax went out just after Doctor Thessalus.”

  Ruso frowned. “Out?”

  The youth’s head bobbed. “His case must have been nearer, though, ’cause he was on foot. And he was back before long, but I didn’t see Doctor Thessalus again.”

  When the youth had gone Ruso observed, “He looks very young,” and realized with horror that it was the sort of remark he and Lucius used to deride from their father.

  “They’ll be sending them straight out of the cradle soon,” observed the watch captain, who could not have been much over twenty-five himself.

  “While I’m here,” said Ruso, “how do I go about getting a gate pass for my housekeeper?”

  The man shook his head. “You’d have a hard time sir. The only civilians allowed in with no escort are the prefect’s family. Security policy. Because of the way the natives are.”

  “But she’s only a woman!”

  The watch captain shook his head again. “So was Helen of Troy, sir. Look what she started.”

  27

  TO RUSO’S RELIEF, Thessalus seemed to have forgotten about the fish. He gestured Ruso to the stool while he himself sat on the chair, crushing the scroll cases. He frowned at them, made an ineffective attempt to pull one of them out from beneath him, and gave up.

  Ruso tried, “How are you this evening?”

  Thessalus gave a slow smile. “You don’t need to keep coming to see me, Doctor,” he said. “Don’t worry. All will be well. I have seen to it.”

  In the light of the one lamp it took Ruso a moment to realize that Thessalus was smiling not at him but at a spot a few inches beyond his left ear. Ruso turned. The wall was bare. He wished he could see whatever was giving Thessalus the confidence that all would be well, because from his own point of view things were not good at all. During his first visit this afternoon, his patient’s mind had been scuttling about like a startled lizard. Now it was moving more like a . . . like a slow thing. Ruso had had a long and trying day.

  “I have seen to it,” Thessalus repeated, sounding much as Ruso imagined an oracle might sound. “This is my answer. Ambitions, hopes . . . it all comes to the same thing in the end.”

  “I’ve met some of your patients. The men speak very highly of you.”

  “They will not speak highly of me when they know.”

  Outside the main door, the guard coughed and shuffled his feet.

  Ruso said gently, “You have been troubled, brother.”

  “This is true.”

  “Your mind has not served you well of late.”

  “My hands have served me worse. I did no harm with my mind.”

  “You think you have done someone harm?”

  Thessalus looked puzzled. “You think it is all in my mind, that it is a dream?”

  “We all dream things we do not do.”

  “And sometimes we do things we would not dream of.” Thessalus put his head in his hands. His shoulders began to shake.

  “Gently, brother.” Ruso leaned forward and grasped the man’s thin arms. Thessalus drew back as if in pain.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “I was only—”

  “I told you, you must never touch the patient!”

  Ruso sat back. He wished he had left this visit until tomorrow. The man had been calm. Now he was in distress.

  “All gone now,” Thessalus mumbled. “All over. I am a murderer. I know. I saw it. I felt it.” He began to rock backward and forward. “I can feel it now.”

  “Open your eyes, Thessalus. Look at me.”

  Without lifting his head Thessalus began to moan softly, “No, no . . .”

  “Look at me, Thessalus. Open your eyes and look up. I am real. Put aside the visions. Just for a moment.”

  Slowly, the man’s head lifted.

  “What if I can prove to you that you were somewhere else on the night Felix died? What if we find people who saw you?”

  “You wish to prove me insane. I am condemned either way.”

  “I wish to prove you ill, brother. And soon to be restored to health.”

  “But never again trusted.”

  “In time, when you are well—”

  “You are wasting your time,” Thessalus continued.

  “Metellus will find out the truth,” insisted Ruso. “The man who killed Felix will be punished.”

  “
They will find an innocent native to execute in my place.”

  “Not innocent. Nobody believes you did it, Thessalus.”

  The glistening dark eyes looked again into his own. “Then you must convince them.”

  “First,” said Ruso carefully, “You must convince me. What reason would you have to attack Felix?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. He was there. His friends beat the native. They ask for justice and cows and we beat them.”

  “What did you do with the body?”

  Thessalus sighed. “I’m very tired.”

  “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I expect they’ll bring your supper in a minute. Do you want something later to help you sleep?’

  “I want something to stop me dreaming. Do you have that in your case? Freedom from one’s own dreams?’

  Ruso wished he could place a comforting hand on that of his colleague. “Tomorrow we will begin to sort this out,” he promised. “Tomorrow we will begin to work on a cure.”

  “His head,” whispered Thessalus.

  “Sleep tonight, brother,” said Ruso. “We will find a way through.”

  “What did I do with his head?” said Thessalus.

  28

  RUSO WANDERED BACK through the dark streets of the fort to the infirmary, still pondering what to do with Thessalus.

  He had met patients with problems of the mind before, but even in the spring—known to be a dangerous time for people prone to madness— he had never come across one displaying both mania and melancholy on the same day. It was as if his two visits had been to two different men. And although no one believed Thessalus to be capable of murder, he was so utterly convinced he had done it that Ruso was beginning to wonder himself.

  Normally he would have shared his concerns about a difficult patient with a colleague, but the nearest one was half a day’s ride away. Besides, the confession and Thessalus’s position as a fellow medic made it too delicate a matter to broach with an untried stranger.

  He would have liked to write to Valens about the case, but the only way to get a reply before the governor’s arrival would be to use the official dispatch service. A humble medic was as likely to have access to that service as he was to have Mercury fly in through the window and offer to deliver the message in person. No: Whatever he did, he would have to do it on his own.