Ruth Downie - Semper Fidelis

Ruso could see that Accius was impatient for him to finish. The moment he stopped speaking, Accius demanded, “How exactly did you go about this conversation?”

“I told them I was researching Geminus’s life for a memorial, sir.”

“And they believed you?”

“No. They thought I was there trying to clear my name.”

“As long as you didn’t involve me.”

“No, sir. What was really interesting was what Fabius said next.” Ruso paused, hoping Accius was going to listen to all of it and not just what he wanted to hear. “He said he’s thought more about that evening and now he remembers seeing a native hanging about by the ditch, off to their left. He didn’t seem to be causing trouble so they left him alone. When I asked for a description, he explained that it was dark, but they were carrying torches and he thought the native had pale coloring and his hair was unusually short for a Briton.”

“Victor!” exclaimed Accius, as Ruso had known he would. “Excellent!”

It was not excellent for Victor, but Accius was not the sort of man to worry about that. “Then he referred me to the other two men who were there as well, sir. And this is where I think it all gets rather strange.”

“Never mind what you think. Tell me what they said.”

“The two men I spoke to gave exactly the same description as Fabius.”

“Good! A description of the murderer, and three witnesses. You’re a lucky man, Ruso.”

“It’s too good, sir.”

“How can it be too good?”

“Sir, Pera has dark hair and eyes and he’s wearing chain mail. Austalis is blond and blue-eyed and he’s got a green tunic over his good shoulder. The blanket isn’t gray, it’s white.”

“Get on with it!”

“People don’t remember things accurately. Were you present when Clarus interviewed his own men, sir?”

“Of course not! Otherwise I wouldn’t be-” Accius stopped. “There was no need for me to be there.”

So Accius’s interest in this was definitely unofficial. “Did he say anything about his men seeing a native?”

“His men must have seen dozens of people. He would hardly tell me about all of them.”

“Yes, sir. Yet these three all said exactly the same thing in the same order. It was as if they’d rehearsed it.” He paused to let that sink in. “I’m willing to bet that none of them remembered the native before Victor was arrested.”

Accius sighed. “I should know better than to listen to a doctor. You people see a pimple, call it a deadly disease, and prescribe six weeks in bed with daily visits.”

“They’re hiding something, sir.”

“They’re describing the same man! Besides, they couldn’t have known you were going to come asking. Why would they all get together and make something up?”

It was a fair point, and one Ruso had already considered. “Sir, think back to your childhood. When my brother and I did something we weren’t supposed to, we agreed what we’d say in case we got caught.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Accius. “I don’t have any brothers.”

Ruso was struck by a picture of the lonely young Accius wandering through a large house, wishing he had somebody to play with, and suddenly thrilled by the attentions of a storybook war hero. No wonder he had been determined to defend him. “The point is, sir,” he said, “we only ever did it when we knew there was something to cover up. And the more clever we tried to be, the more likely we were to trip up. If they said they hadn’t seen anyone-which I imagine they told Clarus-they’d have been fine. But they decided to embellish their cover story when Victor was arrested.”

“Or they could have discussed their memories around the campfire one night.”

“Then they would have gone to Clarus, sir. And Clarus would surely have told you that he had evidence against one of your men.”

“Hm.”

“One of the other veterans told me that Geminus wasn’t popular when they served together. I think this may go a lot further back than we realize.”

The silence that followed was interrupted by the trumpet signaling time to move on.

“Well,” said Accius, “that’s something to think about.” He took a step back toward the road. “Thank you, Ruso. You will now forget everything you have just told me.”

“Yes, sir. Sir, the recruit under arrest is-”

“He’s none of your concern. If you want to do something useful, help us get the rest of them to Deva.”

“What about my wife, sir?”

“Just stop her from making any more trouble.” Accius strode away to deal with more important matters, leaving Ruso wondering how to carry out that most challenging order of all.

Ruso was trying to find out who he should ask about borrowing a horse when he found Dexter riding alongside him. The man had never been friendly, so he was surprised to hear a greeting. He was even more surprised when Dexter said, “You did a good thing, Doctor.”

“I did?”

“Somebody should have done it way back.”

“Geminus?”

“Me, I was never happy about him. You just turned up and dealt with it. Like that.” He snapped his fingers. The horse tossed its head.

“I didn’t do it.”

“Shame about young Victor, but he’s not the sharpest tool in the box, is he?”

“He didn’t do it, either.”

“I bet you’re thinking, How did the old man get away with it for so long? ”

“ Sports Night ?” said Ruso, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. “You know, then?”

“Where did you think you were, the amphitheater?”

“It was just a bit of harmless fun to start with. But the old man didn’t know when to stop. And I didn’t have the authority to stop him.”

“Men were being injured!”

“They weren’t my men.”

Perhaps not, but Dexter must have been betting on them.

“Then he went and lost that lad in the river. Even Geminus could see he’d gone too far there.”

“But by then he’d implicated everyone else,” Ruso surmised.

“He was a clever bastard.”

“Was it you who told the maintenance crews to follow me?”

“We had to know what you were up to. They were keen enough to help. Nobody likes an inspector.”

“You could have backed me up!”

Dexter shrugged. “What’s done was done. The old man said if we talked, we’d all be thrown out with no payoff. Or worse. So we decided to keep the lid on it.”

And they said centurions were the bravest men in the army.

“You don’t how it was,” continued Dexter, as if he had guessed what was in Ruso’s mind. “You weren’t there.

“I got the general idea from his dog. Where is it, by the way?”

“Still with him,” said Dexter unexpectedly. “We couldn’t have a dangerous dog on the march, so it went on the pyre.”

Ruso pictured the wolf dog standing calmly alongside its master and felt more kindly disposed to it in death than he had in life. “Bella,” he said, as if he felt he should mark its passing by naming it, and then tightening the muscles in his leg so that the stitches pulled. “How much does the tribune know?”

Dexter shrugged. “That’s what he’ll be trying to decide, ready for telling his story at Deva.” He paused. “Nobody meant it to end like it did, you know. It was just a bit of fun.”

“I didn’t kill Geminus,” Ruso repeated. “Neither did Victor. So where were you that night?”

Dexter was staring ahead to where the recruits were marching in ragged lines four abreast. “Busy knocking heads together,” he said. “But if that’s the way the wind’s blowing, maybe I’ll take the credit.” Urging his horse into a trot, he moved forward to ride alongside his men.