She seemed no heavier than when he had carried her in. The matted hair rested against his cheek. He hoped he had been wrong about the head lice. He hooked one toe around the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the side corridor and pausing to crane around the corner and make sure no one was approaching.
The hospital formed a large square around the courtyard garden, with the long admissions hall and the operating rooms on one side of the square and the wards and other rooms along the remaining three. The quickest way out was to turn right and carry the girl up toward the admissions hall. They could then escape through the side door beside the baths, which would surely be unlocked for the maintenance staff to get in and out during the day.
He had made it about twenty feet along the corridor when an unfamiliar voice sounded in the distance. The tone sounded authoritative and it was growing louder as the owner rounded the corner behind him.
Ruso dodged into another side corridor like the one he had just left. On either side of him were doors to isolation rooms. The voice was growing louder. '… and have it all scrubbed through immediately,' it was saying.
'Yes, sir!'
'Isolation rooms,' announced the voice, almost upon him now.'Your responsibility, Festus Junius.'
Moments later Ruso emerged from one of the rooms, alone. At the sight of him, a tall thin officer whose face was ten years older than his hair paused in the doorway of the room opposite.
Pulling the door closed behind him, Ruso said, ' Optio Priscus, I presume?'
'Indeed,' replied the man, inclining the hair slightly toward him.
The orderlies with him were stone-faced.
Ruso introduced himself. 'New surgeon.'
'Ah, good morning, Doctor. Welcome to the hospital. I am your administrator. We conduct a daily ward inspection so if there is anything you require…'
Ruso jerked a thumb back toward the door he had just closed. 'Leave this one till later, will you? The old boy's only just got off to sleep.'
A flicker of something that might have been displeasure moved the muscles of the administrator's face. Then the hair inclined toward Ruso again and the man murmured, 'Of course.'
Back in the isolation room, Ruso gathered up the girl from where he had dumped her on the end of the bed. The old centurion had woken up. His eyes were wide and his chest was heaving with the effort of drawing breath to speak.
'Wrong room,' said Ruso swiftly, 'Sorry.'
The man's mouth opened.
'Don't try to talk.' Ruso gestured toward the bedside. 'Do you need me to ring the bell?'
The man shook his head.
'I'll be in later.' The old boy had deteriorated since earlier this morning. Ruso left the door ajar so the staff would hear the bell and, as he left, heard a wheezy voice suggest, 'You can-leave her behind-if you like.'
Priscus had turned right. As soon as the corridor was empty Ruso turned left and hurried back past the girl's former room, narrowly missing a big basket of dirty linen that someone had abandoned just around the corner and promising a voice which called, 'Doctor!' that he would be back later.
The girl seemed to have drifted off to sleep as he strode down the corridors. He took a shortcut across the garden. A man who was standing in a lavender bed and scrubbing the wall beneath what had been the girl's window glanced up but said nothing. Finally he reached the hospital kitchens. Ignoring the stares of the staff, he marched through the steamy atmosphere, wrenched open the back door, and stepped out into the street.
Valens had gone out but fortunately forgotten to lock the house door.
Welcomed by enthusiastic puppies, Ruso carried the girl over the threshold-a feat that required much less effort than it had with Claudia in his arms-and dumped her on his bed. The house smelled abominably of dogs and mold. He forced open his ill-fitting bedroom shutters and wondered how he could have failed to notice how bad it was before.
In the kitchen he poured a cup of water and hacked a lump of cheese from the end without small teethmarks.
He left the food with the girl and added a scrawled note on the slate which was supposed to be the house message system: SLAVE IN MY ROOM TEMPORARY ARRANGEMENT.
He sprinted most of the way back to the hospital, entered through the front door, nodded to Aesculapius, and made a determined effort to silence his breathing as he strolled across the admissions hall toward his surgery where his students were waiting. Pausing by the door, he turned and saw two benches full of men, all watching him.
'Right!' he said. 'Who's next?'
16
The wolf was very large and very dead. Its skin was splayed against the white wall. Its fangs were bared in a snarl and the lively glint in its glass eyes suggested that it was about to leap up and attack the damp patch on the hospital administrator's ceiling. Priscus, presumably used to the sight, snapped open a folding chair for Ruso. He slid himself into position behind his desk as neatly as if he had been one of his own files on the shelves.
'Ah,' he said, smiling in a manner that made Ruso glance back at the wolf for comparison. 'I see you've noticed my little trophy, Doctor.'
'Is it local?'
'Oh yes. I ran into it a couple of years ago on my way to Eboracum. Quite a fine specimen, don't you think?'
'Very impressive,' agreed Ruso, noting that the administrator had a better office than any of the medical staff.
'You'll find there is excellent hunting in Britannia,' said Priscus, running a hand lightly over the top of his head, as if to check that the hair was still there. 'Although personally I find it rather difficult to set aside the time.'
'I imagine you find plenty to do here,' suggested Ruso, not adding especially if you don't give anyone else the keys.
Priscus smiled again. 'Organization,' he said, indicating a large board nailed up above the shelves. Each notice on it was spaced an exact inch from its neighbor. 'Organization and teamwork,' he continued. 'The key to a pleasant and successful hospital. Don't you agree, Ruso?'
'I find a steady hand with a scalpel quite useful, myself.'
'Precisely!' Priscus spread his fingers to grasp an invisible quantity of precision that he seemed to think was hovering just above his desk. 'Efficiency stems from a clear understanding of our various roles and responsibilities. So perhaps you will allow me to give a brief outline of the administrative arrangements.'
The administrative arrangements were impressive in their complexity: so impressive that once Ruso had spotted the underlying theme-that every decision was referred back to the hospital administrator-he stopped listening. He was wondering whether Priscus knew who was responsible for breaking into the linen closet when something caught his attention.
'I'm sorry, what did you just say?'
'As I was saying, a scribe could be extraordinarily useful. I think we can find a suitable man.'
Ruso frowned. 'A scribe?'
'My men aren't used to African writing, I'm afraid.'
The man had only been back for a day, and already he had found time to scrutinize the patient records. 'It's the same as any other writing,' said Ruso. 'The dispensary's never complained.'
Priscus's head inclined in agreement. 'No, they are very professional. But I took the liberty of discussing the matter with them just now and they agree that a scribe would be the best way forward. And of course, so much more convenient for you. Many of the medical staff with whom I have had the honor of serving have found it very useful. No need to keep stopping to take notes. Nothing to carry Both hands free.'
Ruso scratched his ear. 'I suppose I could give it a try.'
