Roman fort. The thought of the gate pass in the leather purse strung on her belt made her feel uneasy. It was not an honorable thing to be trusted by the legions. Throats had been cut for less. And yet, the medicus had made it so easy for her to escape! It must be the work of the goddess, who was more powerful than the gods of the Romans, even though she had hidden her face from her people for such a long time. The goddess was helping her to escape. Chloe had finally told her what little the girls knew about the loss of Saufeia. Tilla had not made the same mistakes. As for what had happened to Asellina: That was a mystery. But the goddess must know. The goddess would protect her.
Tilla pursed her lips and allowed herself a moment of pity for the medicus, powerless before the will of the one who had chosen to answer her prayers. The medicus had treated her well. She would serve him as best she could in the few days she had left here. She would do what she could to cheer up that dreadful house. In the meantime, she would find out how to cook something.
47
The third morning of Valens's absence dawned to the sound of musical weather. Walking through the fort, a listener could enjoy the sound of water drumming on roofs and splashing from the eaves, streams tinkling down gutters, drains gurgling and backing up. Inside the hospital were the complex rhythms of leaks dripping at different speeds punctuated with the occasional ping where the staff had placed metal basins because they had run out of buckets. It had been raining since before dawn, as Ruso well knew since he had been called out while it was still dark. Everywhere with a working brazier now smelled of wet wool hung up to dry. Adding to the cheerless mood of the staff was the knowledge that the planned modernization of the hospital building had receded by another day as the weather held up the work over at the bathhouse. Even Priscus's powers, it seemed, had not extended beyond getting his own office ceiling dried out.
Ruso was dictating notes to Albanus in a mood of grim determination when the morning porter interrupted to announce a visitor. Ruso's temper did not improve when the visitor turned out to be the civilian liaison officer, come to ask if he could borrow Valens's hunting net.
'On a day like this?'
'We're making an early start in the morning. Just me and a few friends. Why don't you join us?'
'I'm busy,' said Ruso. 'Valens is away.'
'Oh, sorry. I suppose you are. We're busy too, you know. Not like you, of course. Our work isn't life or death. Well, not usually.'
'No.'
'And frankly, if we do anything too fast, it just encourages them. They're supposed to take responsibility for themselves, you know.'
'Yes.'
'But of course they don't. Sometimes I wonder what they have a town council for. Anything that isn't keeping the drains clean and organizing jolly festivals gets sent to us. Widows who've had their prize goat stolen. Shopkeepers who've been punched on the nose by a soldier they can't quite identify. Natives who-'
His flow was interrupted by a knock on the door. 'What do you want?' he demanded of the orderly whose head appeared around the door.
The orderly glanced at Ruso and then back at the liaison officer as if not sure which of them he was supposed to be addressing. 'Another visitor for the doctor, sir.'
'They all want an immediate investigation, you know,' concluded the liaison officer, lifting his wet cloak from his arm and slinging it round his shoulders. 'And it's always when I'm on duty. Oh by the way, I put your Claudius Innocens on the second spear's list for a little chat.'
'He'll have to move fast. Innocens travels around.'
'Really? Well, if we don't catch him this time, we'll nab him when he comes back.'
Ruso turned his attention to the orderly. 'Who wants me now? I'm trying to get some work done.'
'It seems to be a native girl, sir. We would have sent her away, but she's insisting on seeing you.'
Ruso sighed. 'Send her in.'
Tilla appeared, busy rubbing her hair with a towel. Her shawl had done little to prevent the rain soaking into the blue tunic that was now clinging to her with an appealing precision that Ruso did his best to ignore. Her feet were muddy up to the ankles.
The liaison officer looked her up and down as they passed in the doorway, then paused to address Ruso from the corridor. 'I meant to say earlier,' he said, 'glad to hear you found your cook. Very nice. I'll look forward to an invitation.'
'Do,' said Ruso, calling after him, 'wait till you try her soup!' He turned his attention to Tilla. 'Who gave you a towel?'
She frowned. 'Tall, thin, old. His hair…' She paused, then raised her hand in a gesture Ruso recognized.
'Officer Priscus, sir,' put in Albanus.
'I see,' said Ruso, not altogether pleased at the thought of Priscus sniffing round Tilla. 'Is there a problem?'
'I need money, Master.'
He saw that she was trying not to shiver. 'I gave you money the other day.'
'Is spent.'
'What-all of it?'
She nodded, slung the towel over her shoulder, and began to count on her fingers. 'Bread, apples, onions, carrots, eggs, milk-'
'All right,' he interrupted. 'I haven't got time for a shopping list.'
He loosened the strings of his purse and tipped a quantity of pitifully small coins into his hand. 'Take this,' he said, adding something he remembered Claudia saying, 'I shall expect an account at the end of the week.' As she bent to pick the coins out of his palm, he realized that the tails of her plaits were dripping. He could not imagine how long it would take to dry that much hair in a climate like this, and so far she had only walked the short distance from the house.
Moments later he watched his own cloak walk out of the surgery with Tilla underneath it. At least part of her would stay dry. He hoped she would not catch a serious chill before he could afford to buy her some footwear.
'Her name is Tilla,' he said, turning to his clerk. 'If I'm out I may leave the key at the desk for her to collect.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And wipe that silly grin off your face, Albanus. Anybody'd think you'd never seen a housekeeper before.'
48
By the fourth morning of her stay with the medicus, Tilla had begun to wonder if he lived this way by choice. She had the floors of the usable rooms clear, the mess stacked up in the driest part of the empty room, and the mice in retreat. She had found the best snack shop in Deva, and slipped into Merula's for a quick lesson with the cook while both doormen were out escorting the girls to the baths. Her repertoire was not extensive, but it was edible. Omelette. Poached salmon. Sausages. Boiled cabbage. Porridge. Stewed pears. Baked apples with honey drizzled into the space where the core had been. Yesterday, after the rain had stopped, she had shoved all the dirty clothes in the house into a bag and lugged them out along the Eboracum road to the laundry. Then, feeling she deserved a rest, she and the dog had finished off the beer stored in the dining room. It had been kept too long anyway-but even this the medicus did not appear to notice. He seemed to have no interest in anything beyond eating, working, and sleeping.
Asked what the names of the dogs were, he looked as if he had never thought of that before. They had no names, he said. The bitch belonged to the man who had lived in the house before his colleague. She said, 'The pups
