Did continuous rasping of short breaths signify swelling lower down in the throat and was it possible to kill oneself by running until one's airways closed up?
Ridiculous. Of course not. It just felt as though it was.
What caused the head to pound during exercise, and why, despite careful strapping to ward off blisters, did old boots always rub in new places?
You can do this, he told himself. You have done it many times before.
Count. Each step a bonus. Each step an achievement. Set small targets.
One and two and three and four and…
"Out of practice, Doc?" Ruso glanced at the fresh-faced young optio who had fallen in step beside him.
"Good to get-" He tried not to sound out of breath, "-out again. Haven't had much-time lately."
"Busy over at the hospital?"
"Short-staffed." He must get the optio to do the talking. "Been with the-legion long?"
"Ten years this winter. My people are from Baetica, but my father was a centurion in the Twentieth."
"Born in Deva?"
"No, no. My father got married after he retired back home."
"Like it here?"
"You get used to it. Hey, are you the doctor that's investigating the murder?"
"No," said Ruso. He had neither the breath nor the desire to elaborate.
They were passing some native houses now. These were set well back from the road, beyond the wide shoulder where brown sheep lifted their heads as the soldiers approached then bounded away to graze at a safer distance. Smoke curled from thick cones of thatch squatting on round stumpy houses. Several small children of indeterminate sex were fighting over a rope swing dangling from the branch of a tree. Chickens wandered in the mud and a boy was leading a reluctant goat past an untidy stack of hay with a pole sticking out of the top. Ruso saw all this but heard none of it. The sounds of these other lives were muffled beneath singing accompanied by the thump of legionary boots and the jingle of buckles.
Aware that his "no" had sounded abrupt, Ruso said, "What are the locals like?"
"We've got both sorts 'round here," explained the optio. "One or two who know what a bathhouse is for."
"And?"
"And a bunch of thieving sheep-shaggers."
"Ah."
"You'll find some of the girls friendly, but you'll need to watch your step."
"Really?"
"Half of them have a string of brothers who want to knife you to restore the family honor. The other half are sent by those honorable families to latch on to an army salary so they can move out of the mud hut. Not much of a choice, is it?"
Ruso smiled. "I hear the second spear has a daughter."
The optio laughed aloud. "You won't get near that one."
"Not me. A friend."
"Not a chance, Doc. Not a chance."
Ruso glanced across at the native huts just as a shapely girl emerged from a gateway carrying two buckets. Moments later he was aware of confusion ahead of him: the sort of confusion caused by someone tripping and the men behind not being able to stop in time. The singing gave way to shouting and swearing. Later runners saw what was happening and parted to flow around the sprawled bodies. Ruso sidestepped to the left, glancing at the playing children who had stopped to stare. The girl had vanished. The optio stayed behind, yelling abuse at the tangle for watching the bloody natives instead of where they were going.
Minutes later a breathless man caught up with Ruso and conveyed the optio's message that one of the fallen men had a suspected broken ankle. Ruso muttered a silent prayer of respect to whichever fate had cursed the unfortunate legionary and hurried back to help. He no longer had to pretend now. He really was both enthusiastic and committed.
41
"You're doing what?"
Valens's hand, clutching his spare underpants, paused above his kit bag. "Seems they're paying a visit to some hairy mountain chieftain whose resolve needs stiffening."
"And they want you to go along?"
Valens resumed his efforts to stuff underwear into the few remaining crevices in his kit bag. "I can do a quick tour of the outpost units while I'm there. It's time somebody checked them over."
"That's going to leave the hospital a bit short, isn't it?"
"I did think about that," said Valens, ramming the last sock down and hauling on the drawstring to close the bag, "But then I thought it would give you a chance to shine, so you probably wouldn't mind."
Ruso's weary mind groped toward a suitable reply, and failed to find it. In the end he said, "Very decent of you."
"You're welcome!" It was not clear whether Valens was ignoring the sarcasm or had simply failed to notice it. "I know you want the CMO post, so it's only fair to let you have a crack at getting yourself noticed."
Ruso yawned. This afternoon, having rendered first aid and organized a party to carry the injured man, he had rejoined the returning runners of the First, and just about kept pace with them for the four miles back to the barracks. His legs were stiff. His feet were blistered. He could not be bothered to point out that his efforts to sustain three men's work single-handed at the hospital would only be noticed if something went wrong.
"Well," continued Valens, "I can't stay up talking, I've got an early start. They're leaving at sunrise, but I want to get down there early and snag a decent horse.
"Ruso said, "You'll be missing your turn with the training run, then?"
"But I'll be with them," pointed out Valens, as if he were intending to march with the First instead of ride past them on a borrowed horse."Now. Do you want me to wake you when I go or will you be enjoying sleeping in in your lovely new redecorated bedroom?"
42
In the absence of Valens, it was Ruso who hurried across to HQ just after dawn for the morning briefing. He was not overjoyed to find Priscus already standing at the back of the hall. Each acknowledged the other with a curt nod.
Ruso frowned. He was unwilling to leave a man who would not know a plague from a pimple as the official representative of the medical service, but it was ridiculous for the hospital to be left to manage itself while both of them stood around listening to notices. He was about to give Priscus a departing wave-that surely would help to mend relations between them, as well as given him a chance to snatch breakfast-when there was an untidy shuffle of men standing to attention, followed by silence. The camp prefect's voice echoed in the rafters, bidding the assembled officers good morning and announcing that he was in charge for four days while the legate was away.
Ruso struggled to concentrate on the notices and ignore the gurgling of his empty stomach and the stifled heavings of a man in front of him who was trying not to cough. Finally the prefect announced his chosen password for the day- tiger stripes — and paused to take questions. Only as the briefing was declared closed did it strike Ruso that he should have raised his hand. It was what Valens would have done. It was the sort of thing Claudia would have encouraged. The camp prefect was directly responsible for the hospital and asking questions was a way of getting yourself noticed. The trouble was, there was nothing he actually wanted to know. No, that was not true. There was something he wanted to know, but he couldn't ask it in public.
He asked it later of Albanus, who looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure I can tell you, sir."
"Why not?"
Albanus coughed and looked to make sure the surgery door was shut. "Well, they gave us a talk about security the other day. All about not telling anyone anything they don't need to know, and how the officers might test us, and…"
"Do you actually know the answer?"
Albanus looked even more miserable. "Yes, sir."