Ruth Downie: Medicus

He held his breath. His right hand moved slowly and silently toward his knife. From behind him came the faintest rustle of fabric. He spun around, knife pointed at where someone's throat might be. "Don't move!"

"Don't hurt me!" It was Merula's voice.

He said, "Why are you hiding?"

"I thought you might be one of the others."

Ruso lowered the knife. "How's Daphne?"

"I don't know," she said, "and I don't care." She bent down and heaved up some sort of bag. "This place is finished. I'm not staying around to take the blame for what they did to that girl."

Ruso said, "Did they kill Asellina as well?"

"That was Priscus. The gods alone know why That's what started all this. We had to find a replacement."

"So you did a deal with Innocens?"

"It wasn't me. I'd have had more sense. I worked my way up here, Ruso. Seventeen years in the trade: I know what I'm doing. Then Priscus went and bought the place and started interfering. Never paying full price for anything. I told him, if you're going to run a business like this, you have to invest. But he wouldn't listen."

Ruso slid the knife back into the sheath. "Was it you who put Saufeia to work?"

"We all make mistakes, Doctor."

"True."

"I should have left when Priscus took over."

"Yes," agreed Ruso, "I know exactly what you mean."

He was on his way to the end room when he heard the squeal of a hinge out in the yard and then the gate slam shut. Ahead of him was the angry, scratchy cry of a newborn child.

Tilla sat back against the wall, clutching her arm to try and ease the ache. Beside her, Daphne lay exhausted but alive on the bed that was soaked with blood and the water of the birth. Phryne was kneeling by the bed, holding a blanket around the squalling and slimy child they had laid on its mother's belly. Now that the thick cord joining mother and baby was no longer blue, the other girl tied it as Tilla instructed. They had not been able to find anything suitable in the room, so the cord was strangled with the leather thongs removed from her boots.

Tilla leaned forward and wiped her hands on the filthy bedspread. Her work was almost done. Soon the men would come back for her, and she would have to decide what to do.

So many days had passed since she had met the medicus, and yet her choice was the same as before. She was not afraid of death. The poison had failed her today on the road. Startled by her capture, she had not thought to reach for it before they tied her arms. Now, at last, she understood. The goddess had kept her in this world not to save Phryne but to welcome Daphne's child. Praying now for Daphne who had been kind to her, she closed her eyes.

She was wakened by the medicus's voice outside the door. Startled, she rubbed her eyes. She must not sleep. They knew now about the poison that was her freedom. As soon as she dropped her guard, they would take it away from her. She had to leave for the next world tonight, or find a reason to linger in this one.

He was banging on the door now. Calling her. The girls were looking at her, and at the bar across the door, not sure what to do.

She straightened her back. "Are you alone?"

"Yes."

She nodded to the girls. "Let him in."

Once inside he stood awkwardly, eyeing the figure on the bed. "Is she-"

"She is alive."

He said, "You did well."

"I need your knife," she said.

Without question, he crouched down and slid it along the floorboards. After she had severed the cord, Phryne swaddled the child in the shawl they had found in the trunk under the window and she settled it on its mother's breast, where it finally fell silent. "Be proud of yourself," she told Daphne in their own tongue. "Be proud of your son."

When she turned back she saw the medicus was resheathing his knife. "There's blood on that bandage," he said, frowning at her arm.

As she said, "Not mine," Daphne gave a soft moan. Tilla slid her hand under the blanket and felt the belly harden.

"Soon you can rest," Tilla told her, lifting the blanket up to see if the afterbirth was coming yet. "You are a strong girl. You have done well."

They were waiting in silence when they heard footsteps outside. The one with the odd hair appeared in the doorway, trembling and asking the medicus to look at a wound on his head. As usual, he was full of words. This time he was talking about working out a plan.

"We can extend the terms of the loan," he was saying as the medicus lifted one of the lamps to get a better view of the back of the head, from which a trickle of blood glittered black in the light. The wound had not stopped his talking. "You can keep the girl," he continued, "she's too much trouble." Tilla turned her head to listen. "Too much trouble" surely meant they were talking about her.

He was sounding excited now. "We can say Stichus killed Bassus in a fight over the takings-"

The medicus interrupted to say the wound needed cleaning before he could examine it, and he would have no part of killing anyone.

"No, Ruso, no. You don't understand. It was self-defense. You saw him attack me earlier."

The afterbirth was coming now. "Good girl," she urged, crouching to watch. It was important that it should be whole. Daphne should not be allowed to slip into the next world now. Not after such a struggle.

Daphne groaned.

"Good girl," Tilla repeated, wishing the men would have the sense to leave them in peace. "It is nearly done."

"It was terrible," the one with many words was insisting, as if anything could be terrible compared to what the girl on the bed had just been through. "I was frightened for my life. He grabbed me by the throat and banged my head against the counter. A stone counter, Ruso. I could have died! I still feel dizzy."

She glanced around. The medicus was scratching his ear in the way he did when he was uncertain. He said, "Are you telling me-?"

"I was all on my own with him! You deserted me, you abandoned a fellow officer… I had to wait till he went to find a drink and get a knife from the kitchen. It was terrible!"

"You stabbed Bassus with a kitchen knife? Gods in heaven, Priscus! Let me past, I'll have to-"

But the talkative one was clutching his arm, still complaining.

It was whole. She tied the towels in place, tucked Daphne into the blanket, and murmured a prayer of thanks to the goddess, with a final plea that the bleeding would stop soon. Behind her, the men were arguing in the doorway. The one called Priscus was promising the medicus that the man was quite dead and would not be telling any more tales.

An evening of blood.

She stroked Daphne's forehead and tidied a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. "The goddess has favored you with courage, sister. You did well. He is a fine healthy baby" It was not the time to be asking if there was a father to be told the news. Instead, she turned to the men in the doorway. "We need help."

The medicus glanced at them. "We need help," she repeated, raising her voice over that of the one with many words. "She needs to be carried to a clean bed."

She stepped aside. The medicus eyed her for a moment as if he were not used to taking orders, then told Phryne to bring the child and said stiffly, "Congratulations, Daphne," before stooping to gather her up in his arms. Tilla let the girls guide the medicus to a clean bed. The one called Priscus scurried after them, talking faster and faster.

Alone, she took a long cool drink of water from the jug. She had not eaten since breakfast. The soldiers had taken her food and eaten it while she walked behind them, tethered like a donkey, all the way back to Deva. She leaned back against the wall and slid down it until she was sitting on the floorboards with her legs stretched out in front of her. The boots were flapped open, thongless, useless for running even if she had the strength. She fingered the filthy bandage the medicus had put on her arm-how many days ago now? So much trouble, and for what? To bring her here to save one unborn child?