Ruth Downie - Semper Fidelis

“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.

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.”

“Just in case.”

Valens said, “She won’t want to come.”

“Use your charm on her. It works on every other bloody woman.”

Valens delved into the folds of his tunic and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. “I brought you this.”

While Ruso gnawed the meat from a chicken leg and wished it had belonged to something bigger-a turkey, a swan, an ostrich, a horse-Valens explained the plans that he was no longer important enough to be told.

“Practically everyone’s clearing out in the morning. Hadrian’s taking his own people and every spare man he can find up to the wall site, but the empress says she’s had enough, so she’s going across to Deva to visit a friend and wait for him there.”

Ruso tried to muster an interest in the imperial travel plans, and failed. “What about me?”

“I’m coming to that. Clarus will have to send half his Praetorians off with Hadrian, so they want what’s left of the Twentieth to bolster the escort for Sabina. They’ve put some chap called Dexter in charge of the recruits. I’d imagine you’ll be going with them.”

At least he would be traveling with his own unit. Valens would be traveling north with the emperor’s party, taking Tilla toward her own people and safely out of Accius’s way. It was not good, but it was the best he could hope for. He said, “Geminus had it coming, you know. He and his pals were putting the recruits into danger and betting on the outcomes. Then they tried to silence the complainers.”

“I know.”

“Did Tilla say if she’d found out anything useful?”

“Not yet. Clarus’s men are pressing on with the questioning tonight, but they don’t seem to be getting anything sensible out of anyone, either. It was dark, and there was a riot.”

Ruso supposed he ought to be grateful that Clarus was bothering to investigate at all, although his witnesses would not be. People who knew nothing did not suddenly discover the truth just because they were frightened of pain. They became people who made things up, and the more desperate the witnesses, the more false signposts began to clutter the road to understanding.

“I’d imagine they all want it to be me,” Ruso observed. “None of the commanders will want his own men blamed, and the Sixth won’t want to start here by executing any of the locals.” He frowned. “In fact, if I weren’t myself, I’d be hoping it were me too.”

Valens did not contradict him.

“Thanks for coming back, anyway.”

“When you get out, you owe me four denarii. I had to give the guards one each.”

“You were robbed.”

“I know. And I can’t stay long. The procurator has a bad attack of gout and he’s exhausted after rushing down here. I need to be around if he calls me.”

Ruso swallowed. Valens had his own duties. It would be neither appropriate nor dignified to grab him and beg him not to leave. Instead he said, “So you won’t be a provincial much longer?”

Valens gave a modest shrug. “The wife didn’t want to bring the boys up in Britannia.”

“Understandable.”

“If Fortune’s kind to us, we’ll be in Rome by autumn.”

“Well done.”

Valens retrieved the chicken bones and the cloth. “You’re not a bad surgeon, you know. If things had gone differently …”

“I’m a better surgeon than you are,” Ruso pointed out, alarmed by his friend’s sudden generosity. “I always was.”

“Bollocks.”

Ruso smiled.

“I wish I could travel with you, old chap, really I do. I’m not happy leaving you like this. If there were something else I could do …”

You could shout louder. Tell the truth to everyone you meet. Scrawl all over the walls of Headquarters, RUSO IS INNOCENT. Harass people until they listen. Tell everyone what an evil bastard Metellus is. And tell Accius if he goes near my wife, I’ll kill him. “No,” Ruso said. “You’ve done all you can.”

“You know what it’s like. Always people waiting to push you aside. If I don’t go with the Procurator-”

“No, absolutely. You must go. It’s a good opportunity for you.”

“If it wasn’t for the family …”

“Of course.”

They had run out of words. Perhaps Valens too blamed the awkwardness of their parting embrace on the restriction of the chains.

Ruso remembered something. “I don’t think Metellus will bother Tilla now that he’s got me locked up, but watch out for him.”

“I promise.”

Valens was on his feet, and then he and the lamp were gone.

Ruso swallowed hard and began to count bones again in the dark. Then when he reached the right elbow he stopped counting bones and began to count the number of suspects in the murder of Centurion Geminus. Out of the two thousand or so soldiers and the untold number of civilians who had been in Eboracum last night, the only ones he could definitely eliminate were the recruits, Hadrian, Tilla, and himself.