Ruth Downie: Medicus

She felt her eyes flutter shut, and rubbed them hard. She must not sleep. Her hand moved to the twine fastened around her throat. She must decide tonight. She must ask for a sign from the goddess. She must get up and bar the door. In a moment, she would do all these things. She would just sit here for a while first, surrounded by the mess that comes with the welcoming of a new life, and recover her strength.

Bassus was slumped over the counter, his head in a dark pool of red wine mingled with the blood that had welled through the fabric of his tunic. No breath stirred the surface of the pool. Ruso's fingers moved slowly around the warm flesh of the neck, pressing for the throb of a pulse. He shook his head. The doorman was, as Priscus had claimed, quite dead. He lifted the man's shoulders, then lowered him onto the counter again and stepped away. There appeared to be more than one wound, and all were in the back. It did not look like self-defense.

"It could have been Stichus," Priscus was saying. "It all fits, do you see? Stichus wanted to steal the earnings and-"

Ruso turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

Tilla was asleep. Priscus, who had followed him, was now talking about having the connecting door blocked up and selling the business. "Frankly, it was always something of a disappointment. Terribly difficult to find the right staff. As you know yourself, of course.. "

Ruso knelt beside Tilla and ran a finger through the brown curls that she must have hoped would disguise her. Her eyelids flickered, then she settled back into sleep. Priscus was saying something about learning from one's mistakes and putting this unfortunate affair behind them.

Ruso stood up and stepped away. He would let her sleep a little longer. He was now so late that a few more minutes would make no difference. "Accessory to kidnap and rape of a native girl, accessory to repeated rape of a citizen of Rome, strangling that citizen, and now stabbing a veteran in the back," he said. "Plus I gather the other mess Bassus had to clear up for you was Asellina."

Priscus scowled. "I really can't be held responsible for having to put an end to that girl. I warned her more than once to pull herself together. She was quite insane."

"Really? I heard she was a cheerful and popular member of the staff."

Priscus tightened his lips. "She was warned! She was ordered to show appropriate respect!"

Ruso glanced at Priscus's hair and tried to imagine the effect it would have on a girl who was prone to giggling. "You mean she wouldn't stop laughing?"

"I told you. She was insane."

Not everyone likes a good laugh, do they, sir? Poor Decimus had been wiser than he realized. "Did you invent the story about her running off with the boyfriend?" Ruso asked. "Or was that someone else?"

"How was I supposed to know the wretched girl had an admirer? When Merula made a fuss I told her to make up some sort of reason why the girl had gone, and I gave her an example. A better manager would have used some initiative. Instead she just repeated what I'd said."

"So when her boyfriend turned up and demanded to know where she was, Merula told him she'd run off with the mysterious sailor."

"That girl was the property of the business. My property."

"And you didn't like your property laughing at you."

Priscus glared at him for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he was making a conscious effort to rein in his temper. Finally he said, "What does it matter? What happened was a little unfortunate, but as her owner, the only loss was mine."

"This whole business has been more than a little unfortunate, Priscus."

Priscus took a deep breath and appeared to recover his composure. "It has been an extremely difficult episode," he agreed. "But I think we can both feel relieved now." The hand that smoothed his hair was hardly shaking at all now. "We just need to tidy up a little. Then we can put everything behind us and make a fresh start. I'll confirm that you were called to an emergency here so your absence won't damage your promotion prospects."

Tilla stirred and murmured something in her sleep. Ruso stared at Priscus, wondering if the man's calm attempt to reason his way out of terrible crimes was a sign of insanity. Wondering too if he had collected any more weapons on his way back through the kitchen. "You expect me to keep quiet about this?"

"Of course." Priscus's mouth twisted into his wolf smile, and for the first time Ruso felt afraid of him. "What a terrible waste it would be," continued Priscus, "to ruin both of our careers over something like this. Because no matter what price you get for the girl-and, be honest, Ruso, even if you redeem her now, you will have to sell her-it will not make up the deficit in your personal finances, will it?"

"You know nothing about my personal finances."

"Really? Were you hoping no one would find out? Of course you were. Each of your creditors finding out about the others would cause a total collapse. If my informants are correct, you might be forced to sell that rather lovely farm in Gaul, leaving your brother and his expanding family homeless and penniless."

"You wouldn't!"

"Only with the deepest reluctance, I assure you."

One of the candles dimmed and drowned in a pool of wax. Ruso wondered if Valens had gone to bed yet. He took a deep breath. "If I keep quiet now," he said, "I'll be in your hands. I'll never know when you might decide to talk."

"Nor I you," Priscus pointed out.

"Is that any way to live?"

"On the other hand," said Priscus, "as I suggested, we could extend the terms of the loan. I can arrange to mislay the guarantee document.

So you can sell your slave whenever you like."

There was a movement. Before Ruso realized what was happening, Tilla had put one hand to her throat and snapped the twine that held the poison around her neck.

"Stop!" he urged, lunging toward her and freezing a step away as she put the package to her lips once more. "Tilla. Please."

"Daphne is safe," said Tilla, looking first at Ruso and then at Priscus.

"Now one of you will sell me. For greed, or for debt."

He did not dare to move. She could slip the acorn into her mouth and crush it in an instant if he tried to snatch it from her. "Please, Tilla, don't take whatever it is you've got there."

Those eyes were looking into his. The eyes that had first looked at him, unseeing, as she was being dragged down a back street by the greasy Claudius Innocens. "Daphne does not need me," she said. "Why should I not take it?"

And suddenly, clear and so obvious he could not understand how he had overlooked it, he knew why. "Tilla, listen. Do you trust me?"

The poison was held steady. "You take me in. You mend my arm," she said.

"Yes. You see?"

"So you can sell me for money."

"No! I had no idea…" He was about to say, "I had no idea you would turn out to be so valuable," but that was more truthful than helpful. He closed his eyes and prayed for the sort of persuasive powers the gods gave to other men. Men like Valens. When he opened them, no inspiration came. In desperation he whispered, "You must trust me." Then he turned back to Priscus. "I won't keep silent," he said. "This has got to stop."

Priscus frowned. "I'm offering you your precious slave back, Ruso. Surely you can't be thinking of sacrificing your family to prove a point about a couple of dead whores? There are hundreds of them! You said it yourself: Anyone can buy a girl in a back street."

"Anyone can," said Ruso, "but once you have, you're responsible for her." Without looking, he stretched one hand back toward Tilla, palm open. "Give me the poison, Tilla."

The hand remained empty in the air.

A muscle began to twitch in Priscus's cheek. "You're not seeing things clearly, Ruso," he said. "Think about it overnight. We'll discuss it in the morning."