Dying to be Cured – V

Dying to be Cured is set in a modern-day Britain where the Roman Empire still rules. Dai and Julia take on a fight against institutional corruption whilst dealing with the demands of family, friendship and domestic crises.

It was a long argument, and metaphorically bloody, but Dai and Bryn lost in the end. The upshot was that a couple of days later Julia, in a fair approximation of a nurse’s uniform, and an apparently feeble, shawl-swaddled and wheelchair-bound Gwen booked into the most expensive of the cuponae in Canovium. Gwen, in her role as a hypochondriac from Londinium, immediately sent a letter of introduction, together with the required medical documentation regarding her condition, to the temple, together with a very generous donation and the implication that there would be more if a speedy invitation to attend a service could be arranged. Then they sat back and waited, secure in the knowledge that Bryn, Dai and a group of heavily armed Praetorians and Vigiles were concealed within ten minutes of the temple, and Edbert and Gallus were even closer. 

They had only been settled in their room for half an hour when Julia’s wristphone bleeped. She looked at the screen and went to the open the door. Gallus slipped in from the corridor.

“Edbert stayed in our room. Although he isn’t bad at creeping he’s too big to skulk around in cuponae. So I’m here. We’ve found a couple security cameras out in the woods. At least one is unauthorised. Shows the back entrance to the temple. Have patched your ever-loving spouses in on that one because somebody regularly parks a big all-wheel drive in a carefully constructed hide a small way back in the woods from the door. Edbert thinks the camera probably belonged to wossname Thrace, and I see no reason to disagree.” He looked at the two women soberly. “Will the pair of you please be careful. I don’t like the smell of this place at all. You armed?”

Julia went to the wheelchair which stood against the wall, and lifted off the push handles to disclose two hefty padded tubes each of which concealed a disassembled firearm.

“Good. Now I’m off. We won’t lose sight of you until you go into the temple. Then you’re on your own until you put up a squawk for help. Don’t leave it too late.”

And he was gone.

“That,” Gwen observed, “is a very worried man.”

“On a lot of levels. Firstly I think he genuinely likes us both, but then when you add in Dai and Bryn – and the fact that his boss just happens to be my foster brother.” Julia chuckled. “Rock. Hard place.” Then she became suddenly solemn. “Was Bryn okay with this when you parted company?”

Gwen’s smile was soft and loving. “He was worried, but accepting. And Dominus Llewellyn?”

“Mostly. And his name is Dai. He is no more dominus to you than I am domina. I think we are all friends. Or at least I hope we are.”

The women shared a warm hug and Julia went off to find them some food.

Fortunately for everyone’s nerves, the summons to the temple came the very next morning. A pile of letters was delivered to the cupona and Gwen’s assumed name was among the addressees. Julia brought the brief note with a substantial breakfast.

“Eat up, Gwen, it looks as if we have a date. Morning prayers. And it’s about certain you will be called for ‘treatment’. Are you sure about this?”

Gwen smiled a strong and reassuring smile.

“Yes. But I’ve been thinking. They may insist I am tended by their own carers once inside. I’ll do my best to insist that I want you with me, but don’t worry too much if they don’t let you stay with me all the time.”

Julia touched the older woman’s smooth cheek.

“They just better not hurt you.”

“They won’t,” Gwen said stoutly. “I’m supposed to have far too much money for them to treat me with anything but care.”

And then it was time. They joined the queue for admittance to the temple, in a quiet and orderly fashion. When they reached the gate they showed their invitation and were ushered through to the front of the courtyard. Julia leaned on the wheelchair and spoke through the corner of her mouth.

“You don’t have to go through with this.”

Gwen just turned her head and smiled.

The purple toga-clad charlatan came to the front of the dais and began to read a list of names. Gwen’s falso nomine, Gwendolyn Tyrweth, was read out quite quickly, and Julia maneuvered the heavy wheelchair towards the white-clad priests at the temple door. For a moment, she feared those who accompanied the supplicants might not be permitted entry, but her fears were groundless. 

“Will you take your lady to room number seven, please?” one of the priestly types by the door asked, pointing into the building. “And help her onto the bed.”

Julia nodded, noting the two nerve whip armed security guards standing alertly behind the priests. She maneuvered the wheelchair around a sharp dogleg corner and was glad to find that room seven wasn’t too far along what looked to be a very long corridor.

Dying to be Cured by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook first appeared in Gods of Clay: A Sci Fi Roundtable Anthology.