S. Turney - Ironroot

“So,” he announced in a businesslike fashion. “The big bag with the ‘I’?”

Varro looked down at the first bag he’d been given almost an hour ago.

“’I’ is three times a day, every day regardless of circumstances.”

Scortius nodded. “Conditions?”

“Got to have eaten before hand and have something to drink afterwards.”

“And effects?”

Varro shifted like a scolded student.

“Symptoms only?”

Scortius’ jaw firmed up.

“Not all symptoms, Varro. Three times a day and that’ll keep your mind clear. It’s purely for your mental state and your wakefulness. But I will warn you right now, the poison’s setting in deeper every day. Even with the best medicines I can give you, you’ll gradually notice some deterioration in the brain. I’ve worked out a regime that should keep you going long after you’d normally be ‘toes up’. You shouldn’t really have more than a couple of days, but you might last two weeks or more on all this.”

“You’re such an optimistic man to be around, Scortius.”

The doctor glared at Varro.

“I’m a doctor, Varro, not a miracle man. If I could cure death, my son would still be around.”

The captain sat back and sighed.

“Alright then. The first is to keep me thinking and awake.”

Scortius nodded and the captain handed the bag to Salonius, who carefully placed it in the saddle bag on his lap.

“The ‘II’? Scortius prompted.

Varro lifted the second large bag off the bench and examined it.

“That’s for the pain. Once a day; twice if the pain starts to get too bad.”

“Details, man!” barked Scortius. “This stuff’s here to keep you alive. You need to keep on top of it!”

“Erm…” Varro looked blankly at the bag.

Scortius reached down and swiped it out of his hand.

“Every morning as you start your day’s activity. It’s very strong. If you take it and then lie around for a long time the medicine will only affect a small part of your system, but will over-medicate and you risk bringing on a whole slew of new problems. You need to be exercising once you’ve taken it so that the stuff gets pumped round your entire body. Only that way will it get everywhere it needs to be at the right concentration.”

Varro nodded unhappily.

“And…” the doctor went on, “if things get truly unbearable, and I mean unbearable, not if ‘it hurts’, you take a second dose sometime in the evening. And then you need to spend at least an hour doing enough to make your heart pump it round.”

Varro nodded again.

“And the third?” he enquired. “You’ve not told me that yet.”

He hefted the small waterproof bag as Salonius collected the second container from Scortius and put it in the saddle bag.

The doctor leaned back against the cabinet.

“Important. Very important that you remember this.” He was clearly speaking to Varro, though his eyes fell on Salonius as he tapped his left index finger into his right hand to emphasise his words.”

Varro and Salonius nodded in unison.

“This is one of the strongest mixtures I’ve ever put together.”

Tap.

“That bag holds four doses only.”

Tap.

“So make sure you take some scale to accurately measure exactly a quarter of that.”

Tap.

“Don’t take it within an hour either side of your other medicines.”

Tap.

“Don’t drink anything but water for three hours either side of it.”

Tap.

“Don’t let it touch an open wound.”

Tap.

“And be absolutely sure to take no more than one dose within a day.”

He finished tapping and folded his arms.

“And you.” He glared at Salonius. “Don’t touch it. That mixture misused could kill a healthy bear, let alone a human. It’s dangerous for Varro, but then what’s he got to lose?”

Varro stared at him but the doctor leaned over to the young guardsman.

“If he has too much, for any reason; or if he seems to be having a reaction to it; if there’s signs of a fit or his skin gets a purple tinge to it, make sure he drinks pint after pint after pint of water. Flush him right through. Don’t let him stop drinking water until he’s pissed himself raw. Do you understand?”

Salonius nodded and Scortius turned back to the captain.

“Good job you’ve got this sensible lad with you. I have a feeling you’d be dead before you got to the village if he wasn’t there to look after you.

“You haven’t asked where we’re going, Scortius? Aren’t you a little curious, given my circumstances?”

The doctor sighed.

“Varro, I haven’t got time to mess around. You’ve got things you need to do? Fair enough. Stick with my medication plan and you should be around long enough to do whatever it is and come back. In the meantime, I’ve got almost a hundred wounds to track and look after, some of which are life threatening, and the marshal’s sent word that he wants to see me, so I’m going to be busier than ever.”

The captain nodded and stood gently. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Scortius’ shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Thank you. I will be back, hopefully within the week. Look after the men.”

The doctor smiled sadly.

“Don’t I always? Now get out of my hospital.”

As Varro turned stiffly and strode through the door, the doctor grasped Salonius by the arm as he rose to follow suit, hoisting the leather bag over his shoulder. He blinked in surprise and looked up.

“Look after him, young man. Make sure he’s careful with that medicine and make sure he gets back to me. I’ve a few ideas I need to follow up on.”

Salonius nodded, saluted and followed his commander out into the cold yet bright afternoon sun.

Varro tied the pouch tight and put it carefully away in the saddle bag draped across his knee once more. Using his index finger, he stirred the mug of lemon and water, mixing the powder thoroughly until fully dissolved, and then drained the contents in one long draught. He peered across at the window and then back at Salonius.

“I think it’s time.”

Salonius sighed gratefully. The two men had been packed and ready now for three hours waiting for darkness to descend before they made to leave. Slowly he stood, squared his shoulders and stretched hard. Deferentially, he stood quietly to one side to let Varro past and the captain stood, shouldering his bags.

“Salonius, there’s something I’ve got to say…”

The young man raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“I’m not a serving captain and you’re not even serving in an official capacity at the moment. I’m relying heavily on you and you’ll likely have to rely on me. We’re not going to be in camps, among soldiers or anywhere where rank’s going to matter.”

“Sir?” Salonius looked unsure.

“I know it seems odd,” the captain smiled, “but I’m Varro and you’re Salonius and I think that’s enough. No ranks. You’re not a soldier right now, nor a guard or a bodyguard. You’re my travelling companion. You understand?”

The young man nodded and grinned.

“Got it, sir.”

“Knock that off!” the captain grumbled.

Still smiling, Salonius followed Varro out of the room, hefting his saddle bag over his shoulder in the same manner as the captain. The two stopped momentarily in the kitchen area to the rear of the house, where Martis stood holding out a bag of prepared food for them. Varro stopped in front of his body servant and smiled sadly.

“This is it Martis. I’ll be gone for a week at least, so I doubt I’ll see you again.”

The stocky man looked up at Varro and cleared his throat.

“I do not need to rush away sir. I will await your return.”