both hands. After a moment of staring at the cracks in the plaster, Ruso realized that he did not have a clue what a servant would do all day if she were unable to work.
He glanced back down at the blank sheet of wax. It was surprisingly quiet in here. Bassus, while he might have other unappealing habits, was not a whistler, and the crashing din of the construction sites had barely started. Most of the builders would still be at daily training with their units.
Ruso yawned again and tried to remember what should come next in the Concise Guide. It was difficult to think concisely when one had not had more than three hours' uninterrupted sleep in the past three days. He put the stylus and the tablet down on the bench. He would just have a quick doze to refresh his mind before pressing on with his work.
The blankets were folded neatly on the mattress. When he pulled them back, two apples tumbled out and rolled across the floor.
The mattress was no less comfortable than his own, which was scant recommendation. He pulled a blanket up over his shoulders and closed his eyes.
He was just drifting into a blissful sleep when he was pulled back into the room by the sound of something scuffling close by. He resolved to have a good look at the floor later. If he found any mouse droppings, he would demand a discount.
A flurry of wings and frantic cheeping told him the noise was not mice. He opened his eyes. Small birds were squabbling outside the window. When he sat up they flew away. Rising to close the shutters, he noticed a torn scrap of crust and a scatter of breadcrumbs on the wooden sill. He reached through the bars and flicked the crust down into the street, then bent to blow the crumbs away before pulling the shutters across and latching them firmly against the bright morning.
Before long he felt the peaceful floating sensation of a man vaguely and happily aware that he is falling asleep.
He was dreaming in a world suffused with a gentle scent. In the dim light of the dream he could make out a woman sitting in front of him. She was wrapped in a dark blue shawl, and holding a splash of bright yellow flowers against a long blue tunic. She had blond wispy curls pinned back to frame a pretty face, and her eyes were closed. She seemed familiar, as strangers often do in dreams. Then he noticed that under the shawl, the hand holding the flowers was in a white sling.
Ruso flung back the blanket, sprang to his feet, and clapped the shutters apart. The girl's eyes opened.
'I was just waiting for you,' he told her. 'I need to check your dressings.'
In the improved light he observed that her color seemed better than yesterday. When she removed the shawl he also noted with approval that the tunic-which he supposed he would have to pay for-was not new but patched at the elbows.
She reached through the bars to place the flowers on the empty windowsill before seating herself.
The splints seemed to be undisturbed and the sling was providing even support all along the length of the lower arm and not cutting into the wrist. Whoever had retied it for her at the baths had evidently used some common sense. He said, 'Where did you get the clothes?'
She pointed at the floorboards.
'Merula?'
The curls bounced as she nodded.
'I expect you to speak when I ask you a question, Tilla.'
She cleared her throat. 'Yes.'
'Yes, sir, or yes, my Lord, or yes, Master.'
'Yes.'
Ruso sighed. He knew she knew better, but he could not be bothered to argue. Standing beside her, he began the list of daily observations.
Hands and feet: cold-and the feet were far from clean. 'Did you wear shoes to go to the baths?'
The curls swayed sideways this time. 'No.'
He would definitely need to explain some rules to Merula. He didn't need her all decorated until she was healthy. The money wasted on perfume and hairpins could have been usefully put toward a pair of winter boots, and the draft from the window suggested that she would need a cloak before long. Would he be expected to pay extra for a brazier in the room? He didn't know. What he did know was that owning a sick slave was just one expense after another.
'Eating well?'
'Yes.'
The color of the hand was normal. He took it between his palms.
'Move your fingers for me.'
He felt them twitch more strongly than before and would have returned her flicker of a smile had it not been inappropriate. Instead, he said, 'Very good,' made a mental note to point out his patient's progress to Valens, and put her through the usual questions about bowels and urine and sleep and pain. Finally he said, 'Right, let's take a look,' and reached behind her neck to untie the sling.
She began to roll back the sleeve of the tunic with her good hand.
The woolen sleeve of the tunic was clinging to the surface of the bandaging. He moved closer to help. 'If it's all doing well under here,' he said, concentrating on unwinding the grubby outer bandage and careful not to be distracted when he accidentally brushed his arm against her breast, 'we should be able to take the splints off in about twenty days.'
The outer bandage was removed. There was still no sign of infection.
The smell was only of the cerate he had used in the dressing. The alignment of the splints was good. 'So,' he said, reaching into his case for a fresh bandage, 'before your arm was broken, what work could you do?'
Again there was the flicker of a smile. 'I grow wheat and beans,' she replied with surprising eagerness. 'I milk cows and goats. I make butter and cheese. I spin wool. I help when my mother brings out babies.'
'Anything else?'
She hesitated. 'I make blessings.'
He said, 'Claudius Innocens… ' and saw her eyes widen at the mention of her former owner, 'said you were an excellent cook.'
The eyes met his. 'Yes, my Lord.'
'Good!' he said, because he did not know anyone who wanted their garden tended or their cows and goats blessed, but an attractive and respectful girl with midwifery skills who was a good cook… He was glad, after all, that she had not seized her chance to run away. If he could get that arm fully functional, and if Bassus's judgment was sound, maybe Innocens's claim of four thousand denarii would not sound so ridiculous after all.
32
He was on the way to frighten Albanus again by arriving earlier than expected at the hospital when a voice called across the street, 'Ruso! Just the man!' One of Valens's friends emerged from a side street, hurried up to him, and seized him by the arm. 'You've got to help me, Ruso. We've got a bit of a problem.'
Ruso, who had already done this officer's job for him once by breaking bad news to Merula, offered only a cautious, 'What sort of problem?'
The man moved closer and breathed in his ear, 'You know that derelict building over where they're putting the new shops up-the one that had the fire?'
Ruso nodded. He had just left his purchase from that particular row of shops sitting in the drab little room at Merula's.
'Well. A demolition gang went in yesterday and started pulling it down. When they were packing up to go home for the day one of them was looking around what's left of the back room and noticed an odd shape in the corner.'
'I see.'
'It's not an odd shape when you know what it is. It's a body.'
