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.”
Varro’s smile faltered for a moment before returning with a slightly forced look.
“I’m not going to be around much longer, Martis. You need to look for new employment. I’ve informed the fort commander that you have full control of my house in my absence. Stay as long as you need until you can secure a new position, and I’ve left a few months’ wages in a secure pouch. You know where to look.”
Salonius was surprised to see tears in the servant’s eyes and straightened, realising he himself was close to showing far more unhappiness than was seemly. He stood quietly as Varro clasped hands with the servant and wordlessly turned, striding out of the door to the stable at the rear.
Salonius grasped the bag being proffered by the servant and nodded gratefully at him.
“I hope everything works out for you, Martis.”
Casting a last sympathetic look at the suddenly frail looking man, Salonius turned and walked out into the late dusk breeze, across the small garden and into the stable. Martis had arranged for a fine chestnut mare for a very reasonable price from the settlement outside the walls. As an officer, Varro owned his steed, but that assigned to his companion remained the property of the cohort. Their efforts during the afternoon had been thorough, the horses laden with well balanced packs, all done within the privacy of the captain’s stable.
As he entered, the captain was just fastening the straps on his saddle bags. He walked round the horse, tugging straps and pulling at bags to test the fastenings as Salonius attached his own saddle bags and made final checks. He looked over at Varro, satisfied with the results, and the captain walked over to the stable doors and peered through the narrow gap.
“Dark enough. Let’s go.”
The two men led their horses a couple of steps forward and Varro threw back the wooden beam, swinging the doors wide open. The street, as they’d predicted, was all but deserted. Most of the men were now off duty, relaxing in the baths or in their rooms, or making the most of their free time in either the fort’s own bar or one of the less reputable drinking and whoring establishments in the civilian settlement.
The pair drew a few interested looks as, fully armoured, they led their mounts along the paved road between the officers’ houses and toward the fort’s west gate. Their exit had been carefully selected as the only road that passed between nothing but quarters, granaries and workshops, giving them the lowest number of personnel to encounter.