Tabula Rasa(120)

A while later Virana brought a reply. Centurion Fabius was delighted that the boy was found and he hoped the doctor would feel better soon. Meanwhile, what was the best cure for white spots on the tongue?

Valens arrived and woke Tilla’s patient with a jug of very expensive wine which he had managed to smuggle past Ria. He brought good wishes from the hospital, said that the stitching wasn’t too bad for a first attempt, and wanted to know when Ruso would be back at work. It seemed Valens’s father-in-law was convinced that Valens was withholding crutches as part of a personal quarrel. The pharmacist had fallen out with the new clerk, the assistant said the carpenter was useless, and Fabius had got his hands on a scroll full of new diseases.

To which her husband replied, “I think I’ll be sick for a very long time.”

He wanted to talk to Albanus. She tried to suggest that he had some sleep first, but he insisted. So she had to tell him about Mallius being afraid of the pretend ghost of Candidus. When she had finished, he looked exhausted. All the joy at finding Branan seemed to have drained away. “I will send Albanus up,” she promised, “but not for long.”

She found Albanus seated at a corner table with Virana. The girl had placed a plump hand over his skinny one and was gazing deep into his eyes.

“What a shame!” Virana said as they watched him climb up into the loft. “He’s such a kind man, even if he is too thin and not very handsome. I told him his nephew helped me light the lamps and I thought he was going to cry.”

Anything else she might have said was cut short by Ria wanting to know whether the vegetables were going to chop themselves or whether Virana might like to join in. Tilla, aware that she had taken the girl away from her duties, offered to help. That was how she was in the back room wielding a knife when Ria strode in to announce that now a tribune had arrived wanting to visit the Medicus, and how many more soldiers were going to be tramping their muddy boots through her back room?

Tilla tipped a pile of shredded cabbage into the pot. “Did he buy a drink?”

Ria had to admit that he had.

Tilla put the knife down and wiped her hands. “I’ll see to him.”

Virana said, “Has that nice Albanus come down yet?”

“Is that nice Albanus any good at chopping onions?” demanded Ria.

Virana said she did not expect so.

“Then he’s no concern of yours, girl.”

Tilla was glad Accius had come. It would remind her husband of the good thing he had done, and take his mind off his failure to protect Candidus. She told Accius that her husband was not well enough to answer questions, then waited in the background, rolling laundered bandages along her lap and folding clothes that did not need folding. Finally she had a chance to offer the version of last night’s events that she wanted the tribune to hear. In return he told her he was arranging for Branan to take a look at Mallius and see if he was the kidnapper. He said nothing at all about the wall or what might be hidden inside it.

Only when they were alone again did her husband give Tilla a look whose meaning she recognized in spite of the black eye and the swelling.

“I am not sure the tribune believed Mallius saw a ghost,” she admitted.

“I’m not sure he believed any of it,” Ruso said, his voice still sounding odd because he was trying not to move his jaw.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

“Ow.”

“I may have left a few things out,” she admitted. “But he does not need to know them. Two soldiers went out with me last night to visit a patient, one of them thought he saw a ghost on the way, and then I invited them to the Samain celebration at the farm.”

“You expect Accius to believe that you invited a murder suspect to a party? And that party was being given by a family whose son was missing?”

She shrugged. “Accius expects me to believe there is no body in the emperor’s wall.”

Instead of replying, Ruso reached for the cup of water beside the bed, then eased himself down and closed his good eye. “I’m going to sleep,” he told her. “Don’t wake me up until somebody else has sorted out this mess.”

Moments later she heard, “Did I dream it, or did you tell me that you think the old man is your father?”

“It seems there was much my mother did not tell me.”

“So Branan is your brother?”

“As is Conn.”

He gave a grunt that might have been amazement, or disbelief, or simple exhaustion. “I think I’m glad for you.”

She said, “I think I am glad too. But it feels very strange.”

In reply there was only a soft snore.



She went down to the bar to tell Ria that she and her husband both needed to sleep and they could not accept any more visitors, but another one arrived while she was there.