Valens looked blank. “Help what?”
It occurred to Tilla later that if the local gossips had enjoyed seeing the wife of the murderous doctor breaking bread with a handsome stranger, they must be even more excited now that stranger and doctor’s wife had taken a long and unchaperoned walk together beside the river. The fact that stranger and wife kept a respectable distance would not, of course, be reported. Nor-and this was why they had gone there-would anything that they said to each other on that walk.
“So,” said Valens as they passed beneath the trailing willow on their return, “if it wasn’t Ruso who cut this chap’s throat-which I must say I found very hard to believe when they told me-who was it?”
“Plenty of people had a reason. But it was dark, and there was a lot of fighting going on. How can anyone know which of them did it?”
Valens sighed. “He really should have left all this alone until you got back to Deva. The recruits would have backed him up once the centurion wasn’t in a position to frighten them anymore.”
“He saw the boy jump from the roof,” she said. “And he was angry about the boy who might lose his arm. He could not stand by and watch a patient being treated that way. His student had the courage to write a report, and he did not want to let him down.”
Valens’s smile was brief but as handsome as ever. “He just can’t resist taking on other people’s problems, can he?”
“No,” said Tilla. “That is why I like him.”
Chapter 55
He had tried shouting for Valens, but nobody took any notice apart from the guard, who yelled back that if he didn’t shut his face, they would come and do it for him. So he sat listening to the distant bellow of orders, the scrape of boots on stone, low voices outside, and the occasional sneeze. They should have sounded the change of watch by now. Perhaps he had missed it while he was asleep. Perhaps he had been too busy shouting.
He tried not to think about Tilla, waiting for a message that would never come. There was nothing he could do for her except try to keep her out of this. He should have stayed out of it himself.
Valens was going to tell everyone he was out of his mind.
Perhaps he was.
He squinted up at the window. Was the light fading, or was he imagining it? He squirmed, careful not to knock over the bucket as he tried to arrange the blanket around his shoulders. He supposed he could lie down if he slid the chain through the ring so one hand was in the air. Maybe they would take the cuffs off at night.
Maybe they wouldn’t.
Maybe they would feed him.
Maybe the water was all he would get. He should have saved some.
He tried the diversion of reciting all the bones in the body, working down the left side to the toes and then back up. Each toe and finger separately, just to waste time. He lost his place somewhere in the right hand.
Footsteps outside. Someone sneezed as the lock scraped open.
Ruso’s hopes of explaining everything to Valens were dashed by the sight of a nondescript figure in a plain tunic who could have passed almost anywhere unnoticed. Unfortunately there was no avoiding him here, and he was the only person Ruso could think of at the moment whom he did not want to see.
Metellus waited until he heard the lock fall into place. “Ruso.”
This did not seem to require an answer.
“Your friend is doing his best to convince them you’re insane.”
“No doubt hampered by my history of violence to fellow officers.”
Metellus was either smiling or baring his teeth: It was hard to tell in the gloom. “I felt the events of our last meeting were relevant to the case.”
“I’d do it again.”
“You aren’t helping yourself, Ruso.”
“Get me out of here. You know I didn’t do it.”
Metellus shook his head. “Sadly, I know nothing at all. I wasn’t there. And as I’m sure I must have explained to you in the past, it doesn’t matter what really happens. What matters is what people believe. Can you imagine what it would do for discipline if the common soldiers believe a man can murder a centurion under the nose of his emperor and escape punishment by pretending to be mad?”
“If they find out that a man who’s trying to help them is punished for a murder he didn’t commit, that won’t do much for discipline, either.”
“Oh, Ruso.” Metellus sighed. “Sometimes you don’t seem to grasp how the world works. Those men out there won’t care who gets the blame, as long as it isn’t them. Believe me, if I thought it would do any good, I would vouch for you. But the Praetorian prefect needs someone to punish. And you’ve made yourself very unpopular here. I imagine he’s keeping you stored away in case he can’t find a better candidate.”
“You imagine?” said Ruso. “Have you spoken to him?”
“If he wants you to know his plans, no doubt he’ll tell you.”
“Answer the question, you slippery bastard.”
“There’s no need to resort to insults. The question you should be asking is about the welfare of the lovely Tilla.”
“Keep away from her.”
Metellus opened both hands as if to demonstrate that he bore neither malice nor weaponry. “She has no need of my help. She has the handsome tribune to protect her now.”
“Out!” The chains pulled him up short. “Get out!”
The guard must have been listening outside the door. Metellus’s teeth appeared for a moment, then he was gone. He had, Ruso knew, achieved exactly what he wanted. And knowing that was even more infuriating.
The substance in the bowl (he would have to slurp it or dig it out with his fingers, since he had no spoon) reminded him of the slop they had been feeding to Austalis. The surface had the texture of goatskin with wet cow pie underneath.
He put it to one side. Stretched out and with his pelvis twisted to one side, he managed to kick the door. “Hey! You with the sneeze?”
No reply, but was that the scrape of a footstep outside the door? “When you get off duty, go over to the hospital and ask them to give you some bay leaves to sniff. Keep your eyes shut when you do it.”
No reply.
“And while you’re over there, tell them to get the procurator’s doctor to look at Austalis.”
Still no reply.
He had done his best. He sat back and contemplated the contents of the bowl, wondering how long it would be before he was hungry enough to eat it.
Chapter 56
The cell was dark and the slop still untouched when a more welcome visitor than Metellus arrived. Blinking in the lamplight, Ruso said, “I’m quite sane, you know.”
“I know,” said Valens, lowering the lamp to inspect the floor before committing himself. “Tilla explained. But I’m sticking to the diagnosis. It’s your best chance.”
“How is she?”
“Worried about you.” Valens tugged across enough of the rough gray blanket to sit on.
Ruso felt the warmth of his friend’s shoulder as they both leaned back against the wall in the cramped space. “I want you to take her with you when you go.”
“It won’t come to that.”
