Memento Mori Page 4

  “And now poor Doctor Valens is in trouble! I don’t care what they—”

  A third figure joined them, leaning in very close with a smell of stale sweat and a whisper of “If you two don’t shut up, they’ll hear you at the front. And then they’ll want to start all over again.”

  Ruso murmured an apology, but Virana was unrepentant. Dragging him to the back of the colonnade, she pressed him against the wall next to the statue of some military hero and mouthed into his ear, “I don’t care what they say about him, he did love her. You should have seen how upset he was when she wanted to divorce him! Is my husband with you? I told him, you must go and fetch Doctor Ruso and Tilla and they will sort it all out, and here you are!”

  “It all sounds terrible,” he whispered, attempting to disentangle himself. Virana was just as unsettlingly attractive as before, and just as pregnant as when he and Tilla had first met her. At least this time she knew who the father was. Or, rather, he hoped she did. “Albanus will be back tomorrow,” he told her. Albanus had refused to get onto another horse until the memory and the bruises had faded. “He’s bringing the others up from Abona by boat. I was hoping to meet Valens tonight, but I can’t find him.”

  “You’ve missed him,” she told him. “He’s over in the fort at Isca. He came to the shop to say good-bye a few days ago. He had to go back to his hospital.”

  A timely blare of trumpets covered Ruso’s expletive. While he had been enjoying the temporary relief of the ship’s docking at Isca, it had never occurred to him to step ashore and ask if Valens had returned to work.

  “You could send him a letter,” Virana suggested.

  Someone else was making a speech now. They were at the annoying distance where the sounds of the words could be heard but their meanings could not. He whispered, “Who’s looking after his boys?”

  Virana sniffed. “The boys are with Officer Pertinax. I said I would help because they know me but he said no. He said he is their grandfather and he will manage. But really Gleva is looking after them, because she wants to look good in front of him.”

  He frowned, trying to remember who Gleva was.

  “Did my husband not tell you? She is the one who wants to marry Officer Pertinax.”

  “She must be a brave woman.”

  Out in the courtyard, the speech came to an end. There was the sort of pause that suggested something was going on—probably the sacrifice of the goat—but the rising mutterings amongst the crowd as the pause continued said that most people couldn’t see what it was and were getting bored. Finally the choir burst into another chant and Virana said, “Am I allowed to ask about …?”

  Perhaps she did not know how to begin, either. He should have raised the subject before, but he had been wondering how to start the sentence. The baby? Your baby? The baby you gave us?

  Mara. Albanus must surely have read her the letters giving news of her child.

  “Mara’s doing very well,” he said. Better, in fact, than her adoptive mother. Tilla had spent much of the voyage worrying that Virana would take one look at her beautiful healthy daughter and demand to have her back. “You’ll be able to see for yourself tomorrow.”

  “She is coming here?”

  Was that just Virana’s old habit of pushing her hair out of her eyes and repinning it, or was she—for once—lost for words? Finally she offered, “I am glad she is doing well,” and patted her belly. “See? If the gods preserve me through the birth, I am keeping this one. Albanus is very proud of me.”

  He grinned. “He did mention it once or twice.”

  “Only once or twice?”

  He had forgotten her tendency to believe everything she was told. “Once or twice every hour,” he told her. “I am glad to see you so well.”

  Whatever she said next was drowned by a triumphant fanfare from the trumpets and wild cheering from the holiday crowd. When they could hear each other again, he found out that the words she had been shouting in his ear were exactly what a man in his situation wanted to hear. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  She hooked one arm around his. “You can take me to the Traveler’s Repose,” she told him. “Their food is good and the wine is cheap. But on the way—” She broke off to squeeze his arm and huddle against him. “You must come with me. I have something very special to show you.”

  Ruso hoped his apprehension didn’t show.

  6

  That last burst of cheering seemed to have signaled the end of the parade. As Virana steered him across the courtyard the crowds were drifting away. Too late, he realized where she must be taking him. Moments later he found himself staring across a large oval pool surrounded by low railings.

  “The sacred spring!” She flung out one bare arm to present the pool to him, proud of her surprise.

  Ruso swallowed. Virana, of course, had no idea of the significance of what she was showing him. Albanus had managed to keep the details of Serena’s fate secret even from his own wife.

  Below them, steam rose gently in the light of the flickering torches. Out in the center of the pool, several paces away, the surface twitched as small bubbles rose from the depths.

  “It comes up from inside the ground and it is already hot!” she announced. “See the steam?”

  Other visitors were admiring the pool, chatting and pointing out the disturbance in the water, all under the watchful eye of a muscular slave in a temple tunic. There was a small splash as someone tossed in a coin, and circles of glinting ripples chased each other to the edges.

  “Don’t you like it?” Virana sounded disappointed. “I thought you would be interested. They say the water can cure all sorts of things.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Poor Serena, drifting all alone in that heat … “It’s … it’s remarkable.”

  Virana said, “You should throw in a coin and make a prayer for Doctor Valens.”

  He handed her two coppers. “You do it.”

  Her childish delight reminded him that she must still be only, what, sixteen? Seventeen? She closed her eyes and murmured something before flinging first one coin and then the other high in the air, making as much splash as possible. He supposed there must have been very few times in Virana’s life when she had had money to throw away.

  The lighter mood vanished almost as quickly as his cash. Watching the ripples fade, she whispered, “People throw curses in there too.”

  “So I hear.”

  “People who live here used to say it was a joke, but they don’t say that now. Not after Mistress Serena died and those poor soldiers were burned in their beds. And did you know her friend has disappeared?”

  “I heard. Have you any idea where he went?”

  Ruso felt warm breath against his ear. “They’re telling people he’s gone on a trip,” she whispered, “and lots of people think he murdered Serena and ran away, but I think they are all wrong. I think something very bad has happened to him because he was a friend of Serena. And I think it was Gleva who made it happen.”

  “The woman who wants to marry Pertinax?”

  “She is a woman who is used to having her own way. Everyone says that she thought Mistress Serena was trying to stop her from marrying Pertinax.”

  “And was she?”

  “Oh, yes!” She moved away from him. “I think,” she said, loudly enough to be overheard, “that down under that water there is a very bad curse with Mistress Serena’s name on it. And I think it was put there by Gleva, and she is the reason all the bad things happened, and I do not care who hears me say it.”

  The chatter around the spring faded, and several people turned to stare at them.

  Ruso reached out and took Virana by the arm. “I think we ought to go and eat now.”

  The gray-bearded landlord noticed Ruso across the crowded bar of the Traveler’s Repose and came over to the table to bid him good evening and introduce his wife, a straggle-haired woman with a worried expression. Ruso put his spoon back into his beef-and-vegetable s
tew. He had already declined Virana’s well-meant but impractical invitation for his entire household to share the one room she and Albanus rented over a shop that sold bathing supplies. “Can you suggest anywhere I could get a family room tomorrow? The rest of my people are arriving in the morning.”

  Kunaris suggested the Mercury inn, conveniently next door and so comfortable that the governor himself would be taking it over shortly for his stay. The wife, he explained as if to excuse the way she had just hurried off, was working herself to the bone getting everything ready. But for a couple of nights a family room might be found.

  It might have been the unwatered wine she had poured herself, or perhaps the excitement at the thought of Mara’s imminent arrival, that inspired Virana to offer more information. “My husband is bringing his wife here,” she announced, “and I shall see my baby!”

  “Very nice,” murmured the landlord.

  Meanwhile, Virana took another gulp of wine and decided that her explanation needed clarifying. “This man is not my husband,” she said, indicating Ruso. “He is married to somebody else and so am I.”

  Ruso was aware of the two elderly women at the next table falling silent to listen. Even the gamblers in the corner seemed to have gone quiet. He could think of nothing to say that would make the truth sound any less scandalous, and Virana plowed on. “My husband is traveling with his wife, and she looks after my baby, and they are all coming here tomorrow.”

  “Very good.” The landlord glanced at Ruso as if he was wondering whether this was how they all went on in the North. “I hope you all enjoy your stay.”

  Not half as much, Ruso supposed, as the rest of the bar would enjoy speculating about it.

  7

  When they had eaten, Ruso escorted Virana home to the shuttered shop and waited outside, savoring the heady scents of the perfumed bathing oils inside until he heard the rattle of the lock being secured from within. Then he strode back through the dark streets to the Traveler’s Repose.

  When he arrived, the landlord bent down behind the bar and produced the bag that should have been safely stowed away in the room above. For a moment Ruso wondered if he was being evicted for dining with somebody else’s wife, but the man proceeded to usher him toward the stairs. “I’ve moved you to another room, sir,” he said. “Sorry about the mistake earlier. I didn’t know who you were.”

  Ruso felt his spirits lift. Albanus had mentioned the Veterans’ Association, and he had already guessed that this healing shrine must attract plenty of retired soldiers with old injuries to nurse. Maybe a legionary from the Twentieth had remembered him with gratitude.

  The man pushed open the door. “Here we are, sir.”

  A stench of cheap wine, unwashed body, and stale urine wafted out from the darkness. Ruso stepped back. It seemed whoever had remembered him wasn’t grateful. “I’m not sleeping in there!”

  “I’ll leave you a light, sir.” The landlord used his own lamp to light one in a bracket on the wall, and as the flame swelled Ruso could just make out another guest’s bag lying on the floorboards beside a cheap gray jug. The jumble of blankets beyond appeared to contain a body. The worst of the stench must be coming from the pot in the opposite corner. It was unlikely to clear, because the only window was high up on the opposite wall and about eight inches square.

  He said, “I’ll stay where I was.”

  “That room’s full now, sir.”

  “You promised it to me!”

  The only response was a fading series of creaks as the landlord descended the stairs.

  Ruso crossed the corridor and rattled the door of the first room, which had blossomed into luxury in his memory. It was locked. Someone farther along shouted, “Keep the noise down!”

  Alone in the hallway, he pondered the likelihood of finding better lodgings at this time of night, and dismissed it as hopeless. Besides, this was where Albanus had told him to go. Perhaps someone would bring a message from Valens.

  He peered back into the new room. Whatever was in the pile of blankets seemed to be asleep already. There was plenty of space on the floorboards. It was only one night. He would lie near the door, and make sure his knife was within reach.

  The moment he closed the door, the blankets shifted. A creature lurched to its feet and staggered toward him, crying out something unintelligible.

  Ruso yelled at him and sprang back, pulling out the knife. He fumbled for the door latch with his free hand, but the creature wasn’t approaching now. Instead, it was backing away with its hands held out to fend him off.

  “Steady on, Ruso,” it said. “It’s me.”

  “Jupiter’s bollocks!” He could still feel his heart thumping as he slid the knife back into the sheath. “Why didn’t you say so? I could have killed you.”

  Valens—for the creature had Valens’s voice, although it took a moment to recognize the haggard features in the lamplight—gave a wild giggle. “After you’d come all this way to see me? That would be ironic. Like something out of one of those miserable Greek plays.”

  “They told me you weren’t here.”

  Valens leaned back against the wall and scratched at an itch on his scalp. “Good,” he said. “I’m paying them a lot of money to say that. Sorry about pouncing on you. I’ve been going insane stuck in here on my own. I was afraid you might not come.”

  “You look terrible.” And then, because the words had to be spoken even though they wouldn’t help, he said, “I’m very sorry about Serena.”

  “Thanks.”

  In the silence that followed, Ruso heard a burst of laughter from the bar below. There were over-jolly shouts of “Good night!” and footsteps clumping up the stairs. Someone paused on the landing to fart before going into the room that had once been partially Ruso’s. Finally, since Valens did not seem to want to talk about his wife, he tried, “How are the boys?”

  “No bloody idea. I daren’t go out. I assume Pertinax is still looking after them. If he finds me, I’m a dead man.”

  “I heard. He’s not thinking straight.”

  “None of us is thinking straight. Somebody’s murdered my wife.”

  Ruso began to unstrap his traveling bag. “How long have you been hiding in here in the dark?”

  “Three days. I think. I’ve lost count. After the funeral I went back over the water to Isca, but it turns out Pertinax is an old friend of their legate. Wrote and told him I was a desperate criminal and ought to be locked up on sight.”

  “But you’re their medic! Surely they know you well enough—”

  “I only transferred down there a couple of months ago,” Valens reminded him. “To be nearer the family, I might add, but nobody seems to remember that. Anyway, the legate and Pertinax go back decades. Luckily one of his clerks owed me a favor, so I managed to get away before they came for me. So technically I haven’t disobeyed an order. I’m just absent without leave.”

  It was a fine distinction that Ruso doubted the legate would bother to acknowledge when it came to punishment. “And you came back to Aquae Sulis?” It did not make a great deal of sense.

  “I’d already told Albanus I’d wait for you here. The landlord seemed like a sensible chap when I stayed here before—in a much better room, I might add. Besides, it’s the last place they’ll look for me.”

  “What if somebody talks?”

  “They haven’t so far. Most of the staff just think I’m a stray drunk.” He looked around at the shabby room and rubbed his unshaven chin. “I think I may be turning into one. I started off doing exercises but now I can’t be bothered. It’s easier to sleep.”

  Ruso put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and was alarmed at how the bones protruded. “When did you last eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You should—”

  “I’m not a bloody patient, you don’t have to—” Valens stopped. “Sorry.”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “I know. You’ve come a long way, and I’m grateful to you. An
d to Albanus. I’m amazed he made it, to be honest. Is he here too?”

  “He’s following with the baggage train.”

  Valens looked puzzled. “What have you brought?”

  “People. Tilla and Mara. With the housemaid and our other slave.”

  Valens’s eyes widened. “The whole household?”

  “Tilla wanted to pay her respects at Serena’s graveside, and she thought Virana would like to see the baby.”

  The truth was that he was the one who had raised the subject of Mara, in the hope that this would dissuade his wife from traveling, but Tilla had replied that Mara liked traveling by sea. Besides, I cannot go there and say to Virana, “I have left your precious baby miles away in the care of somebody else.” Once Mara was coming, they had to bring the baby-minder, and young Esico might as well come too, because why leave a slave behind as free farm labor for a family who constantly teased him about his funny southern accent? Assuming he’d been found by now, Esico would also be on his way upriver on tomorrow’s tide.

  “To be honest,” he said, “I’m hoping the whole crowd will keep each other busy so you and I can get on with sorting this mess out.” Holding his breath, he stepped across to pick up the pot. “If you’re paying this discreet landlord good money, he should at least get this emptied. While I’m down there I’ll find you something to eat. And I’ll organize some clean water and a towel. You smell like a camel.”

  It was not until later, when they were wrapped in their cloaks like twin chrysalises, that Valens said into the darkness, “Who’d have thought we’d end up like this, eh? You, a family man dragging a vast retinue around with you, and me, alone in a stinky cell on the run from a murder charge.”

  “You won’t be in here for long.”

  “No. I could go outside and be caught and have my head chopped off.”

  Ruso rolled over and adjusted the position of the traveling bag he was using as a pillow. His efforts left it just as uncomfortable as before, but in a new way. “You need to tell me exactly what happened.”

  “I know” was followed by a long silence. Then: “It seems ridiculous now, but it never occurred to me that we might not sort things out one day.”