“And not a good one.” He stepped across to her and murmured, “He’s a known troublemaker. You’re better off not getting involved.”
“He has done nothing wrong!”
“He speaks Latin, Tilla. We don’t need you.”
She glanced at the native and then walked out without looking at Ruso, her back very straight. Ruso turned to find Ingenuus resting the point of his dagger just beneath the man’s ear and demanding, “Think you’re funny, do you?”
“Put the knife away,” snapped Ruso. Allowing a patient to have his face slapped during an examination might possibly be excused, but allowing him to have his throat cut was distinctly unprofessional.
“He winked at her, sir. I saw him do it.”
Ruso took a long breath to steady himself. “Thank you, Ingenuus.” He turned to the man. “You chose to come here for medical help,” he said. “I will treat you, but only if you behave yourself. Agreed?”
“Are the bones broken?” demanded the man.
“There’s no serious damage as far as I can tell.”
“Then I go,” he said, snatching up his shirt and turning his battered gaze on Ingenuus. “I will be standing up now, soldier. Don’t be afraid.”
“I won’t,” snarled Ingenuus. “But you’d better be.”
When he stood, the man was a good handspan shorter than Ingenuus. Ruso followed him past the screens, keen to see him off the premises.
The native said something to Tilla as he left. She did not seem to notice. She was leaning against the wall with her arms folded, watching the middle of the hall. The women’s bathing session had come to an end while Ruso had been behind the screens. The center of the hall was now occupied by two naked weightlifters with oiled muscles.
“Back to work, Tilla,” he ordered her. “We haven’t finished.”
Two women were just vacating the empty benches where his patients had been waiting. The older of the two was clutching an overflowing basket. The other was looking at him through small unfriendly eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I’ll see you now.”
The unfriendly one shook her head. “No need. I have waited so long, I have got better.”
“You should talk to the doctor,” urged her friend. “After all this waiting,” but the woman seemed to have lost interest.
“Come back if it bothers you again,” said Ruso, generous with his time now that none was being demanded of him.
“There you are, Tilla!” said a voice from the doorway. The silhouette of Albanus was standing on the threshold. “What are you doing here? This is the men’s session!”
“My master is working,” replied Tilla, not taking her gaze off the grunting weightlifters. “I am helping.”
Albanus looked at Ruso for support. “But I’ve been looking for her for hours, sir!”
Tilla shrugged. “This is not my fault.”
Ruso stepped between them and thanked Albanus for his fruitless efforts.
“I did hear something else about the murder, sir,” murmured Albanus. “They arrested a man last night, but I think they’ve released him.”
“Ah,” said Ruso, not wanting to discourage his clerk by pointing out that he knew this already. “I see. Thank you. Incidentally, since you’ve now spoken to most of Coria, you haven’t heard of any tonics being peddled locally, have you?”
“You mean cough medicines, that sort of thing, sir?”
“Not exactly,” said Ruso. “I mean medicines with doctors’ names attached. Specifically, my name.”
Albanus’s eyes widened. “You’re selling a tonic, sir?”
“No. But somebody seems to think I am.”
Albanus shook his head. “I haven’t come across it, sir. Do you want me to buy you some?”
“Absolutely not. See if you can find out who’s supplying it, then come and tell me.”
He moved to stand between Tilla and the weightlifters, and was relieved when she did not step aside to retain her line of vision (what would he have done? Grabbed her? Sidestepped again so they moved across the hall in a kind of shuffling dance?). “Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“It does not matter now.”
He frowned. “You aren’t sulking, are you, Tilla?”
“I told you. It does not matter now.”
Three years with Claudia had taught Ruso that when a woman said something did not matter and refused to tell you what it was, it usually mattered a great deal-to her, if not to you. Frequently her way of punishing you for not knowing what it was in the first place was to refuse to tell you until you gave up asking. This was her cue to accuse you of not caring about her, otherwise you would have known what she wanted you to know without having to be told. Finally, if you were lucky, she would explain the latest way in which you had failed her expectations. If you were not lucky, she would explain all the ways. In detail.
It was disappointing to find Tilla heading down this path. The northern air was definitely making her more awkward.
“I need to talk to you about the man who came to the clinic,” he said.
“Rianorix is a man of my people,” she repeated.
He drew her into a corner away from eavesdroppers and explained about the murder. The noise in the hall was such that he had to place his lips very close to her ear to make sure she heard. This made it difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be saying, so the explanation was twice as long as it needed to be.
When it was over she said simply, “I know this, my lord. But he did not do it.”
“We don’t know that.”
“You do not,” she agreed. “So I am telling you.”
“In that case, who did?” asked Ruso, wondering whether Tilla had picked up any local gossip that had eluded the army.
“It was the gods, my lord.”
“I see.” Of course it was. “You don’t happen to know if the gods had any help from anyone?”
A crease appeared in the middle of her forehead. “I hear they send a medicus.”
“I think that’s very unlikely,” he informed her.
“This is what I think,” she agreed. “Medici do not listen to the gods.”
Albanus was still waiting by the door. “You’ll have to come with me to the fort,” Ruso told her. “There’s an officer who wants to talk to you.”
She seemed anxious, as well she might after being questioned by Postumus. She asked, as he knew she would, what the officer wanted. He said he could not tell her. She asked why not. He said he was not allowed to, adding that it was nothing bad, and she would understand when she got there. “The officer needs your help,” he said. “Just do your best.”
The eyes looked into his own. “You do not trust me?”
He said, “That’s not the point, Tilla. I was asked to say nothing. Would you rather I lied and said I didn’t know?”
She did not speak to him all the way back to the fort and in through the gate. She still refused to speak to him when he delivered her to Metellus’s office.
He drew the aide aside and murmured, “Half the town knows about Thessalus. It didn’t come from me.”
“I know,” came the reply. “It’s a damned nuisance. The governor’s given strict orders not to give the locals any excuse to start trouble, so we’ve had to release the native suspect until we can get this wretched confession sorted out. We’ll be keeping an eye on him, of course. But we don’t want them claiming we’re holding a man who can’t possibly be guilty.”
“Any sign of the-?”
“No.”
Ruso said, “I need to talk to you later to try and pin down some facts about Thessalus. But if you have any problems with Tilla, come straight to me. She’s my property and not to be touched. Agreed?”
“Don’t worry, Ruso.”
