women, two of them clutching babies. To Ruso’s surprise, both gates swung open as they approached. The women rushed forward, pleading for information, only to be beaten off by the gatekeeper, who shouted, ‘No news! Clear the way there!’ The opening of the gates was explained as the closed wagon in which Gnostus had travelled back with the wounded gladiators emerged. Ruso guessed it was returning to the amphitheatre to collect their dead comrades.
‘She’s with me,’ he informed the gatekeeper, leading Tilla inside before the man had time to object, then ordering her to wait by the gate. She had seen enough: she did not deserve to be put through whatever might be waiting in Gnostus’ medical room.
To his surprise, all was quiet. Gnostus was busy unloading the wooden boxes of medical supplies that had been piled on the back of the wagon.
‘Eight dead, seven badly wounded, five with minor injuries,’ observed Gnostus, slapping down the lid on an empty box and kicking it out of sight under a bench. ‘What a way to earn a living.’
‘Us, or them?’ said Ruso, glancing across the exercise yard to where one of the assistants was helping a wounded fighter wash himself over the water-trough. A slave emerged from the men’s quarters, carrying a chamberpot.
‘Both,’ said Gnostus. He indicated the drugged figure of Tertius, lying with his leg heavily bandaged on a bed in the side room. ‘Boss wants him out tonight.’
‘After what he did?’ Ruso was incredulous. The boy had run back to don his kit after hearing the announcement that, since one of the fighters had been unexpectedly withdrawn, the winner of the latest contest would stay in the arena to face the next opponent. No doubt that decision had been made by Fuscus. Ruso wondered how many people had noticed that a common gladiator had more moral sense than a magistrate.
Gnostus shrugged. ‘He’s a free man. He chose to fight. As far as the boss is concerned, the school doesn’t have to pay for his treatment. That’s up to the woman who bought him out.’
‘What woman?’
‘Just turned up, offered the boss a cash deal too good to refuse and disappeared.’
‘Yes, but who was she?’
‘Dunno. Never seen her before. She didn’t look the type who’d need to pay for it. Not like some of the dogs we get making offers for the men.’
Ruso was relieved. After Marcia’s performance this afternoon there was no doubt that Gnostus would have recognized her. It had never occurred to him that she might have a rival. He suspected it had never occurred to Marcia, either. ‘So where’s this woman now?’
‘Who knows? She probably won’t want him now he’s damaged.’
‘I’ll take him home if she doesn’t turn up,’ said Ruso. ‘But he shouldn’t travel tonight.’
Gnostus glanced across to where Ruso was leaning against the wall with his aching foot resting on his sound one. ‘You’re not looking too good yourself. Want to bunk down here for the night?’
Ruso explained that he had to take somebody home. ‘Just give me something to help get me there, will you?’
By the time the gatekeeper let Ruso and Tilla out of the gladiators’ barracks, the supporters had dispersed. Two small boys armed with wooden swords were chasing each other in and out of the shadowed doorways while their parents strolled down the street behind them.
‘Do be careful, boys!’ called the mother.
‘If you two don’t stop fighting,’ put in the father, ‘I’ll take those swords away.’
Ruso waited for the family to pass, then planted the heels of the borrowed crutches on the worn stone surface and swung forward. The pain was still there, but somehow duller around the edges. Or perhaps it was his mind that was duller. Either way, Gnostus’ secret painkilling potion was doing its job.
79
Hiring transport to get home was not easy on the day of the games, and by the time Tilla helped the Medicus clamber up into the only carriage that was prepared to leave town at this hour, the sun had gone, and the colour was draining away from the day. The driver, who had insisted on payment in advance, whipped the reluctant horses into a trot. Tilla was not sorry to speed past the long rows of tombstones leading away from the Augustus gate. The area looked distinctly unwelcoming, and there was an autumnal chill in the air.
The Medicus seemed surprisingly happy now the medicine had taken effect. He was lying across the seat with his feet halfway up the wall of the carriage and his head resting on her lap. It was not a dignified position for either of them, and Tilla was glad there were few people about to see it.
She ran a thumb along his unshaven jaw. She wished she could tell the driver to carry on into the night: to take them both away to somewhere private, far from his family and their parched land with its hideous love of cruelty. She wished they had never left Britannia. Even if he wanted her here, how could she bear to stay?
The Medicus stirred in her lap, gave a murmur of contentment and said something that sounded like, ‘All home now.’
She laid a hand across his forehead. ‘Sleep,’ she murmured as the carriage jolted them on down the road towards the farm.
Suddenly his eyes opened. ‘Why did they come here?’ he asked, looking up at her as if they had been carrying on a conversation. Perhaps he had been dreaming.
She said, ‘Who?’
‘Calvus and Stilo.’
‘To visit their friend Severus to plan more stealing, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Or perhaps they met him on the road to your house and poisoned him. Go back to sleep.’
The eyes drifted shut. The carriage jolted on. Tilla closed her own eyes and felt her head beginning to nod.
‘But after he was dead, why did they stay?’
Tilla, whose mind had wandered back to other journeys in Britannia, had to remind herself who the Medicus was talking about. ‘To find out who killed him?’ she suggested. ‘What did they say to that fat man on the balcony?’
The Medicus explained that a woman looking like Claudia had bought poisoned honey. ‘Ennia must have overheard us talking and told Calvus and Stilo, or whatever their names were.’
‘You see? I told you it was the old wife who did it.’
‘She says it wasn’t, and I think I believe her.’
She sighed. Even now, he could not face the truth.
‘Why did they care?’ he asked.
‘Who?’
‘Why did Calvus and Stilo care who killed Severus?’
‘Perhaps they liked him and they wanted to avenge him,’ she suggested. ‘Perhaps they wanted to make some money from finding the poisoner. Why are you lying down if your mind is working and you are not asleep?’
He snuggled against her. ‘I can think better down here. Listen. Even if they did like him, it isn’t their duty to avenge him, it’s his family’s. And why would they risk hanging around, knowing that somebody might work out who they were at any moment? It makes no sense. Who’s to say the Gabinii would have paid them for helping anyway? Besides, they’d already got the money Severus had helped them swindle out of Probus for the ship.’
She shrugged. ‘Who cares? They are just bad men.’
He wriggled, pulled himself up to sit properly and peered out of the side of the carriage. ‘Where are we?’
‘On the way back to your home.’
He was upright now, leaning forward, calling, ‘Stop!’ to the driver.
She grabbed the neck of his tunic and pulled him back. ‘What are you doing? This is the middle of the road!’
‘Stop!’ he yelled louder, grabbing one of the borrowed crutches and banging on the floor. The driver allowed the horses to slow and called, ‘Something the matter, boss?’
