‘Hey! How do they know it’s the wife?’
‘I’ll send somebody down to clear up.’
‘But how do they — ’
‘Who cares!’ retorted Attalus. His voice echoed down the corridor as he retreated. ‘Just be glad it’s not you!’
73
There was a rattle and a clang as the porter tipped hot coals from the shovel into the brazier for the cautery irons. He had just glanced at the empty operating table and observed, ‘Not long to wait now, boss,’ when they heard a voice calling for the medic. The porter grinned. ‘There you go, boss. What did I just say? They ought to give me a job down with the Oracle.’ He stepped across to the door and shouted, ‘In here!’
Ruso reached for one of the leather aprons slung on a nail in the wall. ‘Tell Gnostus to send me some help, will you?’
Squinting at the apron in search of the head-hole, Ruso had greeted his first customer with ‘Right, what can we do for you?’ before he realized that the person who had come into the room was not a patient at all.
‘Tilla!’ He flung the apron aside and hugged her, shouting after the porter, ‘It’s all right, I don’t need any help with this one!’ Burying his face in her neck he said, ‘Thank the gods! Is Cass back? You’re covered in dust, are you all right? Did you see Lucius?’
‘Cass is at home with the children,’ she said. ‘Lucius has gone back to make his wine, and they are not shouting any more, and I am very bruised after riding fast in that bumpy cart.’
He pulled her close. ‘I tried to come after you,’ he said. ‘The horse fell.’
‘Galla told me you are working here,’ she said. ‘I have many things to tell you, or I would never come to a bad place like this.’
‘I have to earn a living, Tilla.’
‘That is what you always say.’
‘You shouldn’t have run off like that with someone you didn’t know. You could have got into all sorts of trouble. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I found out something important,’ she said, dodging the question. ‘The two men who have come here are not from the Senator. They are not real investigators.’
She stood back and waited for his response, looking very pleased with herself. Outside, there was some sort of commotion further down the corridor.
‘Not investigators?’ Ruso tried to make sense of it.
‘The clever one wearing the ring is a man called Ponticus, who did Severus’ business in Arelate. He is the one who bought the bad ship.’ The shouting was growing closer. ‘The other one with the fingers missing is a sea captain called Copreus, who is supposed to be drowned.’
‘The captain of the Pride?’
‘Yes.’
‘But what are they doing here?’
At that moment the door burst open and a voice cried, ‘Where’s the surgeon? Injured man coming in!’
Ruso reached for the lamp and held it up to light the others in the bracket on the wall. ‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘What have we got?’
‘Huntsman. Tripped over. Tiger got to him before they could get him out.’
He nodded. ‘Go and tell Gnostus I need a hand here. He’ll be down with the fighters.’ He leaned across the table and held out the lamp. ‘Light the rest of them, will you? Then get a cloth out of the last box on the left, soak it in wine and wring it out.’
Tilla did not reach for the lamp.
‘If you’re not going to help,’ he said, placing it on the table, ‘keep out of the way.’
Their eyes met. Finally she hooked a finger through the handle of the lamp. ‘I am still not glad about what happens in this place,’ she said.
Ruso placed one hand over the clothing shears to check that they were within easy reach. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t think the huntsman’s too happy about it, either.’
74
It was midday before Ruso finished trying to clean up the huntsman’s shredded shoulder and put it back together, all the time wondering if it would have been kinder to suggest that the man were swiftly finished off. He stayed to supervise the dressing, then took Gnostus’ advice and went to find some lunch. Gnostus’ view, unfortunately expressed in front of Tilla, was that since the lunchtime entertainment was only a few criminals, there wouldn’t be much for the medics to do unless the beasts turned on their trainers.
‘What does he mean?’ demanded Tilla as they left the stuffy confines of the lamplit room for the relative cool of the corridor.
Ruso muttered, ‘Executions,’ through a dry throat. ‘Come upstairs, we’ll get something to drink and you can tell me about Calvus and Stilo.’
‘Executions of people with animals?’
‘It’s not much different to what happens in Deva,’ he assured her, realizing now how little attention he had paid to the gruesome death sentences meted out within a few paces of the fort. ‘Just on a bigger scale.’
She gestured towards the steps that led out to the glare and bustle of the arena seating. ‘And all those people come here to watch this thing happen?’
‘Not really,’ said Ruso. ‘It’s not the star attraction.’ He took her arm and steered her towards a crowded exit. ‘Which means there’ll be queues building up at the lunch stalls.’
He got her as far as the exit before she stopped dead. This, he supposed, was some sort of achievement, although the man who shoved past them both with ‘Get out of the way, will you? Bloody foreigners!’ was clearly unimpressed.
He drew her aside. Standing in the shade of a massive pillar as the lunchtime crowds flowed out into the sunshine, he decided to cut short the inevitable argument. ‘I can’t do anything about it, Tilla. There are twenty thousand people here who — ’
‘I want to see it.’
‘No, you don’t. Come and tell me about Calvus and — ’
‘Do not tell me what I want!’
‘Trust me. You don’t.’ He knew it would be useless to explain to her that the victims were all criminals sentenced to death in a fair trial. Useless even if it were true, which it probably was not.
Standing close so as not to obstruct the exit, he noticed for the first time how the sun had bleached her hair. How unfashionably and delightfully freckled her face had become. He said, ‘Why would Calvus and — whatever their names are — why would they come to Nemausus?’
From somewhere inside the arena came a shrill scream, followed by a ripple of laughter.
The familiar eyes gazed into Ruso’s own. Instead of the determination he had expected, he saw fear.
‘Come and get something to drink,’ he urged her, annoyed at being made to feel responsible for whatever ghastliness was going on in there. ‘You can tell me all about Arelate.’
‘If it was me,’ she said, ‘would you be there to see me die?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The words came out more harshly than he had intended. ‘What I mean is, you wouldn’t — ’
She was gone before he reached the end of the sentence, dodging round the wandering spectators and back into the shadowed entrance tunnel.
‘Tilla!’ he yelled, plunging after her, apologizing as he stabbed a passing foot with his stick. ‘Tilla, wait!’
He need not have worried. By the time he got there she had already been grabbed by an usher and was being firmly escorted back down the steps. The usher looked relieved to see him. ‘I was just saying,’ the man said as another hideous shriek issued from the arena and the crowd yelled advice and abuse, ‘military veterans only in these seats. Women and slaves is round to the right and higher up.’ Evidently the man could not decide which category Tilla fell into and was taking no chances.
Tilla said, ‘I must see.’
‘Why?’ asked Ruso.
‘Because it is what your people do.’
‘Yes, but — ’
‘I want to understand.’