Ironroot tote-2

by S. J. A. Turney

  “My lady.”

  His voice was flat; the greeting unwelcoming.

  “You find me at perhaps a bad moment.”

  “Oh I think I find you at the best of all possible moments,” replied the young woman coldly as she strode across the room and dropped into the seat opposite him. She cast her eyes around the room once more, taking in every nuance of the place. Pulling her deep burgundy coloured cloak around her as though to ward off a chill, she fixed the doctor with a cold stare.

  Scortius gave her an oddly confused look.

  “You seem a little distraught, my good doctor?” she enquired her words light; her tone leaden.

  Scortius pushed himself back a little in his seat and his shoulders dropped wearily.

  “It has been a sad day, my lady Sabianus.”

  She smiled a horrible, cold smile.

  “You have absolutely no idea, Scortius.”

  Again, confusion passed briefly across the slightly intoxicated features of the Fourth’s chief surgeon. Catilina folded her arms.

  “A sad day for many; not least for myself. Varro and I were very close; have been since I was an impressionable young girl, I would say. But a good day for the Empire, nonetheless; a traitor brought to light and executed; the army healed of its gangrene.”

  She took a light breath.

  “I just loathe murderers, don’t you?”

  Scortius’ brow furrowed.

  “Indeed I do, ma’am. More than you know.”

  It was Catilina’s turn to frown. Could she be wrong? She cleared her throat.

  “You knew Varro for many years, didn’t you?”

  “Since our early days in the army, my lady. We were both there the day Darius was made Emperor. Both kneeled and took the oath the same day. We both signed up to follow Sabian and the new Emperor. And we’ve served together ever since. I’ve put him back together like a parent patches their child’s favourite toy time and time again.”

  He sniffed back the emotion coursing through him.

  “We travelled and fought from the Western Sea to the mountains and from the swamps in the far north to the cities of the central provinces. He’s been my commander all this time, but we only ever paid lip service to the difference. It feels strange. Losing Varro is like losing a limb. I…”

  He whimpered slightly and refilled his goblet, taking another heavy slug of dark wine, most of which reached his mouth.

  “And now they’re all gone. All the men I joined up with: Varro, Petrus and Corda. I’m the last of the old guard now.”

  He sighed.

  “I never realised losing him would hit me this hard.”

  “You’re all compassion” stated Catilina flatly.

  “Lady?”

  She ran a finger along the edge of the table absently, her eyes never leaving the doctor’s.

  “I believe I have pieced together the method you used, but it still leaves me wanting for a motive, and everything you say just obscures the motive all the more.”

  Scortius started, that momentary panic that flashed across his face before his miserable expression set in once again all the confirmation Catilina needed.

  “What are you talking about, young lady?”

  He pushed himself back upright in his seat, his expression suddenly sobering.

  She sighed.

  “You must have been planning it for a while. To start with, I thought perhaps that it was an accident, or at least a momentary angry choice, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised you’d carefully planned the whole thing.”

  Again, Scortius’ expression flickered between panic and innocence. She smiled that cold smile again.

  “Ironroot is, according to everyone I speak to, almost impossible to lay hands on this far north. Certainly no barbarian would likely ever come across it. But even a doctor, who’s used to obtaining unusual substances, must have found it hard to get hold of here.”

  She leaned forward and steepled her fingers.

  “That was something that required some thought. Even though I knew it was you… I just knew it, I couldn’t see why you’d have a poison that was so hard to obtain. But then a thought struck me and I enquired with the cohort’s clerks as to the last time you were on leave for any length of time.”

  She smiled at his frown.

  “And I was not in the least surprised to find that you took a sojourn of a month to visit relatives down near Serfium on the Southern Sea. Plenty of exotic substances floating around in the dock front markets at Serfium, I’ll wager.”

  She watched a tumult of emotions cross Scortius’ face and smiled her unpleasant smile again.

  “And I wondered whether you could have a legitimate reason for keeping ironroot. Perhaps there was a sensible explanation? Perhaps ironroot in certain doses worked as a curative, or a paralytic, or some other medical aid. But no. I’ve done my research now. There’s no medical reason for any doctor to keep ironroot. In fact, since the only known use for the substance is to cause pain and death, there’s no legitimate cause for anyone to keep it.”

  She gestured to the medical cabinet at the edge of the room.

  “What drawer do you keep your deadly poisons in, doctor?”

  Scortius waved his goblet to the side, some of the wine sloshing over the top.

  “Pah!”

  “Denials, Scortius?”

  She laughed. ”It must have got to you, waiting for the right circumstances. Varro had to come to you with some wound or illness first. But he was a healthy man, my Varro. Didn’t get ill and, with no major wars on, you must have kept that little vial of yours hidden for a long time. Did you even consider making him ill or wounding him so that he had to come to you?”

  She laughed. “Lucky there was that little uprising eh? Luckier still that Varro was wounded. You must have been dancing round your tent with joy.”

  The innocent look on Scortius’ face had gradually slid away to be replaced by a mix of anger and sadness.

  “You have no idea what you’re saying, girl!”

  Catilina laughed mirthlessly again.

  “Girl? Touched a nerve, have I, doctor?”

  She leaned forwards and slammed the flats of her palms down on the table, angrily.

  “Save yourself the trouble of denials and feigned innocence! I am in no doubt as to your guilt or the method you employed to kill the man I loved.”

  Scortius’ eyes wobbled uncertainly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Catilina spat out her angry words at him.

  “A stroke of genius, really” she barked, slapping her hands on the table. “To soak his medicines in ironroot. I presume that actual compounds were placebos with no real medicinal value? The irony being that he was actually completely healthy and would easily have recovered from his wound had you not administered your care. Every time he took his medication, it would kill him a little more.”

  She waved a hand angrily.

  “From what I understand, the amount he’s been ingesting in his medicines would just make him gradually sicker and sicker until he’d consumed enough to seal his fate.”

  She stopped as a thought struck her.

  “Good grief. You must even have carefully prepared the rest of the compounds. They had to keep him feeling ill enough to take them again, but well enough to feel that he was getting some effect from them? What kind of a mind must you have, doctor?”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  “Oh, you must have laughed until you were sick over that one. To take away the pain that you were causing him, he effectively killed himself using your remedies for that same pain.”

  “Shut up!”

  Catilina started, surprised by the violent outburst. Throwing his goblet aside angrily, Scortius slammed his hands flat down on the table and half-raised himself from his seat to face her.

  “You have no idea, girl. You have no idea. What I did was hard beyond imagining.”

  “Ha!” she laughed back her retort. “I’m sure it was. All that
planning…”

  “It was hard!” he bellowed.

  The doctor collapsed back into his seat again.

  “It was hard on me. The worst thing I’ve ever had to do…”

  Catilina sighed.

  “Forget any pretence, Scortius, or any attempt to obfuscate the reality of it. I know all about ironroot now. Mercurias is not only one of the best doctors in the Empire, but he’s a very good friend of my family. It was he who confirmed the presence of the poison on the medicine wrappers I retrieved from Varro’s bag. So you can be sure that he knows about it too. It’s over.”

  Scortius’ expression sagged, a look of hopeless despair filling him now.

  “Still,” Catilina said crisply, “since you were under no suspicion until I dug around, I’m pleased to find you so unhappy. Could it be that killing your ‘good friend’ just wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped?”

  Scortius grasped his forehead with his hand as though his head pounded.

  “Easy?”

  Scortius stared at her.

  “I never expected it to be easy, Catilina. At best, I’ll find release when I go to the Gods, but some things must be done, no matter how much it hurts. If it gives you any satisfaction, what I have done causes me great personal pain. I loved Varro like a brother. We had been through more than most siblings ever do before you’d ever even met him. No, this was far from easy.”

  Catilina stopped for a moment. The deep emotion behind the man’s words spoke of a deep and painful story. She frowned and scrutinised the man before her for a moment before hardening herself again. She’d almost fallen into sympathy and she was damned if she was going to let that happen.

  “Then tell me why, doctor.”

  She growled. “You claim to have loved him so much, so tell me why you killed him!”

  She leaned back once more and folded her arms.

  Scortius sighed.

  “You should count your blessings, really, Catilina.”

  She laughed a hollow laugh.

  “Yes, I feel truly blessed!”

  “If I were a cruel man, it would be you lying in the priests’ tent now, waiting to be burned, and not Varro. He’d be here with me, bemoaning your fate and crying on my shoulder.”

  “What?” Catilina stared at him.

  “I am not as cruel as Varro, though.”

  As Catilina continued to blink at him in astonishment at the casual tone in which the doctor delivered such brutal words, he relaxed and leaned back in his chair again.

  “I dealt justice on Varro rather than revenge. The great playwrights tell tales of vengeance where deal and pain is traded, like for like. If I had revenged myself on Varro, I would have taken you from him, you see.”

  He sighed.

  “But no… I merely executed him for his actions. I could have been much more vicious.”

  Once more the doctor slumped, the strength leaving him to be replaced once again with grief and pain.

  ”Varro took from me the thing I loved more than anything else in the world; the thing I loved more than life itself. You see? If I were a vengeful man, I would have deprived him of you.”

  Catilina blinked.

  “Varro took my son.” Scortius mumbled, fresh tears streaking down his cheeks as he shuddered with sobs.

  “My son!” he wailed.

  Catilina shook her head, trying to make sense of all of this.

  “Varro killed your son?” she demanded incredulously. “Never! He was a good man; a good soldier. Honourable and loving.”

  Scortius nodded, wiping away his tears again.

  “ My son… Terentius. A detachment of the cohort were on campaign in the mountains during that year when there was drought and a food shortage. Things became desperate. Even at the fort where we had the granaries men’s bellies grumbled and moaned. But up there at Fallowford, there was no hope. Only the meagrest of iron rations.”

  He sighed. “Terentius and two of his companions snapped in desperation and stole food from the stores, but they were caught. Varro was their commander, you see. Terentius took all the responsibility for their actions. Brave and foolish.”

  He broke down again for a moment, sobbing and shaking.

  “Terentius…”

  Catilina cleared her throat.

  “I’ve heard the story. The theft; the punishment. It’s a story that’s still used to illustrate the need for discipline. And that was your son? The ringleader?”

  Scortius nodded again sadly.

  “The boy was executed for insurrection” she said plainly, standing and gesturing at him.

  “It’s harsh, Scortius, but that’s regulations. You know how a commander has to deal with insurrection and theft!”

  She waved her hand expansively. “Would you have expected Varro to go easy on him just because he was your son? What message would that send to other potential rebels? If he’d not carried out that punishment, his own superiors would have broken him in the ranks.”

  “But the other two lived!” Scortius bellowed.

  “Not Terentius though. Oh, no… he had to suffer. Not a quick, honourable death either, but beaten to death by his friends. Beaten to death!”

  Catilina sighed.

  “Varro did what he had to do. What he should have done. It’s Terentius that was at fault, you idiot. It is a sad story, Scortius, but not something that justifies premeditated murder!”

  Scortius growled.

  “How would you know?”

  She sighed and stood slowly.

  “Truly.”

  She backed away towards the door.

  “Truly, I may just be hypocritical…”

  “What?” Scortius frowned at her through his tears. “What are you talking about?”

  Catilina sighed.

  “I could say I’m sorry, Scortius, but the truth is I’m not. And I may be as bad as you or even worse. You say you dealt out justice, not revenge. I think you’re just deluding yourself, but I don’t even claim such high morals.”

  “What?”

  The doctor’s expression, through the blur of tears, was one of confusion.

  “The wine…” she said, pointing at the jug.

  Scortius’ tears stopped as incredulity swept them away.

  “The wine?” he repeated in confusion.

  Catilina nodded. “A friend of mine came in and added a little pep to it before you returned. I think you’ll find it has a bit of a kick now. I don’t have a medical background, you see. I don’t know what proportions of ironroot are required for any particular level of effect.”

  She laughed.

  “So we just used it all. I don’t think you’ll have as long as Varro, though. You see we used everything you had left over, and I think that’s rather a lot. And one of the interesting things I found out from Mercurias’ investigation is that those medicines of yours were infused with wine, because something in wine disguises both the scent and taste of ironroot.”

  “Catilina…”

  Scortius’ eyes were wide and staring now as his gaze flashed back and forth between the cold-faced lady before him and the empty jug nearby.

  “I don’t think you’ll have to keep dosing to make it lethal, Scortius, but perhaps you can tell me. The amount you had left? Would that be fatal, d’you think?”

  Scortius’ eyes bulged in panic and he forced his finger down his throat, leaning over the arm of the chair and retching.

  Catilina gave him an unpleasant smile.

  “I shall take that as a yes then. And you know that’s a waste of time. You started that jug an hour ago. I know, because I’ve been waiting outside to make sure you finished it. And that means that by now, with the tremendous quantity you’ve absorbed this afternoon, it’s already deep in your system.”

  She reached across the table and collected the jug, turning it upside down and smiling at the single drip that slowly collected on the inverted rim and then fell to the table. She replaced the jug and stretched.

  “Goodbye, doct
or.”

  Turning her back on the stricken man, she strode from the tent, a strange mix of emotions coursing through her: pity, satisfaction and disgust. She sighed as she looked around herself in the bright morning sun.

  Not regret though. Never regret.

  Salonius leaned against the outside of the doctor’s tent, a long piece of grass hanging from the corner of his mouth where he chewed absently. He raised an eyebrow as the lady appeared outside.

  Catilina took a deep, cleansing breath and rolled her shoulders.

  “Now we’re done, Salonius.”

  The young man looked at her curiously.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What?” she enquired of him. “Why?”

  Salonius shrugged.

  “Because we are better than him; both of us. You know that.”

  Giving her a sad smile, he patted her on the shoulder gently and affectionately and slipped past her, through the tent flap.

  In the dim interior, Scortius was busy searching desperately through the various drawers and shelves of his cabinet, his face white.

  “Doctor?”

  The man ignored his new guest, his desperation increasing as he searched fruitlessly.

  “Doctor?” Salonius repeated as he walked calmly across the tent and took the seat that Catilina had previously occupied.

  Again he was ignored. Sighing sadly, he picked up the wine jug and brought it down on the table so hard that the handle sheared off in his grip.

  Scortius jumped and stopped his furious searching to turn and stare.

  “Good. Sit down doctor.”

  The stricken man turned once more to his cabinet, but Salonius called to him in a clear, calm voice.

  “It’s no good trying to find an antidote, doctor. You know there isn’t one.”

  Scortius began to rummage once more. He muttered something in a panicky voice. Salonius didn’t catch all the details, but he noticed the word ‘emetic’ in there.

  “Sit down!” This time he bellowed, and Scortius jumped again and stopped.

  “I will restrain you if I have to, but we are supposed to be civilised men, doctor, so come here and sit down.”