He managed to stand on one leg but insisted on leaning on the shield. He did not want her to help him walk. He wanted her to hurry away and fetch the legionaries, and when she said she would only do that when she had spoken to Senecio, he gave an “Oh!” of exasperation and took a hop away from her, using the shield in place of a stick.
“Where are you going?”
“You must do what you think is your duty, madam.” There was a grunt of sudden effort, as if he were hauling the shield out of the mud, then a crunch as he placed it back down again. “I shall do mine. I have been part of a—” Here there was a splash and a muttering of “Oh, dear!” before “I have been part of a rash venture that has left two of our men in enemy hands.” Another grunt. Another crunch. Another splash. “No matter that I believe one of them has done something terrible to my nephew.” His voice was fainter as he hobbled away. “I must do my—agh!—my utmost to save them.”
“I am trying to save them too!” she called after him. It was true, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that her husband would say she was putting Roman lives in greater danger just to save a few Britons from their own folly.
“Regardless of the consequences to myself,” Albanus added, as if he were making a speech.
“Then you need to go the other way,” she told him. “Turn around. The fort is north of here.”
The movement stopped. When he asked if she was sure, there was suspicion in his voice.
“I will not come with you,” she told him, “But you are a good friend to my husband and I would not lie to you.” Skirting the barely visible puddle, she put a hand on his skinny shoulder. “May the gods protect you this night, Albanus. I will come and find you as soon as I can.”
“May the gods protect us all, madam.” His shoulder moved under her touch. The shield thumped down into the mud once more, and she felt water splatter over her boots as he hopped back through the puddle.
Chapter 68
There was a tiger on his face. It was digging its claws into his forehead, and it had mauled him all over. Everything ached and throbbed, except the parts that stabbed instead. He should do something to make it stop. What did you do against a tiger? Nothing people tried in the arena worked for long.
Jupiter’s holy bollocks, that hurt. Like having liquid fire poured over his forehead.
Play dead. Don’t flinch. Don’t moan. Don’t . . .
Too late.
. . . flap one hand about, vaguely hoping to frighten it off.
A voice said, “He’s reacting to pain, sir.”
An older voice said, “Good.”
Ruso wondered what was good about it. He decided to go back to sleep. Then he decided not to when the tiger gripped both sides of his head and tried to gnaw his eye out. “Get off!” came out slurred.
One eye was blinded, but the other opened to reveal a huge bloodstained shape moving about just above his nose. “No!” He tried to beat away the shape and spring up, but his body refused to listen.
“Speak to him,” the older voice suggested.
“It’s all right,” somebody said, even though it wasn’t. “We’re just cleaning you up and putting a few stitches in.”
A few stitches in what? “Where am I?”
“This is the treatment room,” said his informer unhelpfully.
“Sick bay, Habitancum,” put in the older voice. “Under the excellent care of a trainee medic of the Fourth Gauls.”
Holy gods. They were letting let a trainee loose on him. Perhaps they thought he was beyond saving. “Have I lost the eye?”
To his further alarm, the trainee who had been stabbing a needle through his skin said, “Has he, sir?”
“No.”
Ruso thought it was the best word he had ever heard.
“You were lucky,” continued the senior man. “You’ll find it when the swelling goes down. We’re just putting your eyebrow back together.”
“Just one more,” said the trainee, sounding nervous now that he was treating a patient who talked back. Then he added, as he had no doubt been trained to, “This will sting a bit.”
Ruso chose a cobweb wafting in a draft above him to concentrate on and clenched his teeth. Instantly a bolt of lightning shot through his jaw and into his neck. He did not feel the needle going in.
“Oh, and we think we may need to pull a tooth,” added the trainee.
Ruso was in too much pain to tell him he needn’t sound so cheerful about it.
“Done!” The trainee sounded relieved.
Giant metal blades filled Ruso’s vision. There was a final tug as the thread was snipped. He gave up trying to work out why he was here, and asked.