Semper Fidelis Read Online Free PDF Page B

OCCUPIED ROOMS of Eboracum’s hospital were at the front by the entrance hall, while the kitchens were in one far corner and baths in the other. Kitchen staff and bathers were thus obliged to traverse long corridors lined with gloomy wards whose shuttered windows would have offered a fine view of native weeds strangling the herbs in the courtyard. Ruso waited until they were alone in such a corridor before he asked Pera to explain The others were accidents.
    “This way, sir.” Pera looked both ways before ushering Ruso through the nearest door and closing it behind him. “Is that why you’ve come to inspect us, sir? Because of the accidents?”
    “No, this is just routine.” It was true. A routine invented only last week was still a routine if one had plans to stick to it. “But since I’m here, can I help?”
    Instead of answering, Pera opened the door and stepped back into the light of the corridor. “Sorry, sir. Wrong room.”
Ruso stayed where he was. “Tell me about the accidents.”
At the sound of distant voices, Pera flattened one arm against the door as if to hold it wide for his old tutor’s exit. “We’re not using this ward anymore, sir. I forgot.”
“The accidents, Pera?”
Pera glanced back along the corridor, but no help came. Still Ruso did not move. Eventually Pera’s arm dropped. With the door safely closed again behind him, he went across to peer through the cracks in the shutters before saying, “We’ve been ordered not to talk about it, sir.”
“Not in front of the men,” Ruso agreed. “That’s understandable. But if any of this has involved the medical service, I need to know.”
Pera massaged the back of his neck with one hand, as if it would ease his obvious reluctance to speak. Finally he said, “It’s all nonsense, sir.”
“Nonsense or no,” said Ruso, “the lad’s right: If word reaches Deva that they’re an unlucky batch of recruits, they won’t get much of a welcome. What happened?”
“You’d have to ask Centurion Geminus, sir.”
Ruso sighed. “Pera, if you invite someone into a private room and close the door, he expects something interesting to happen.”
“But I can’t tell you anything, sir.”
“So it seems. Although anyone who’s watching will think you have.”
There was a silence, and Ruso guessed Pera had not thought of that. “Never mind,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll go and ask the patients.”
“No!” Pera sidestepped to block his exit. “Sir, there was a recruit who drowned when he was crossing the river.”
“When was this?”
“About six weeks ago. And then two days ago a man had an accident during training. You know how superstitious the Britons are, sir. Once they get the idea of a curse—or anything, really—into their heads, it’s hard to knock it out again.”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Pera must have picked up something from his tone. “Sir, I didn’t mean to insult your—”
“I know,” said Ruso, who was frequently baffled by Tilla’s intransigence himself.
“The ones whose fathers were in the Legion have more of an idea, sir,” continued Pera hastily. “But some of them are full-blooded natives. They’re only citizens because their fathers are officials. It’s not like the old days.”
“True,” observed Ruso, wondering whether Pera really imagined he was ancient enough to remember the days when most recruits were sent out from Italy. He was right, though: it was not like the old days. Nobody had explicitly stated that standards were to be relaxed, but Ruso was not the only doctor to end up arguing with the recruitment officer when a medical board rejected more men than was convenient.
That, however, was a battle for another day. In the meantime two fatal accidents in six weeks was unusual, but he was not an investigator now. He was not going to start imagining curses and conspiracies around every corner. He had seen the difficulties of crossing the river for himself, and deaths in training were not unknown. Men