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.
A sudden hush descended on the crowd before Dai could reply. On the steps of the temple stood a group of lay devotees, and three of the priesthood. One of these was a man wearing a purple toga marking him out as the presiding priest. Aside from the reigning Emperor only a priest who represented the Divine Diocletian when officiating in a temple service for the people was permitted to wear the colour.
Now he lifted aloft a purple wrapped scroll and there was a collective indrawn breath from the crowd. Every seeing eye watched as the priest loosened the ribbons and unrolled the vellum.
“The names of those chosen today are, Mara Cefn, Bedwyr Penrhyn…”
The list went on and as each name was called a small flurry occurred somewhere in the crowd as the individuals who had been chosen and their supporters or carers reacted and began to make their way towards the door at the side of the temple where a group of priests, who looked more like medical staff than religious men, waited to take each person through. This time eighteen names were read out, but Dai knew from his research there could be as many as fifty or as few as three in any given session.
After the last of those selected had vanished into the temple building, the side door closed and the purple clad priest gave a final blessing. Then those on the steps retreated up them and the main doors into the sanctuary closed.
The crowd slowly dispersed back towards the gate. Dai estimated there were nearly three hundred people of whom maybe a third were clearly ill. As they left each was given a private blessing, a smile and some encouraging words by one of three young novice priests. Some of the worshippers pushed donations into the hands that blessed them. More than one had silent tears falling down their cheeks as if their last hope had been taken from them.
It took the best part of an hour until Dai and Bryn stood alone in the courtyard and when they showed no sign of leaving, one of the novices came over.
“I am sorry, Submagistratus, but I can’t let you stay. The temple will be open to visitors later this afternoon, but for now you -”
“I need to speak to the chief administrator here, is that the Pontifex himself?”
The novice looked a little uneasy. “Uh – no. that would be his subadiuva – Domina Adria Plautia Tacita. Would you like to see her?”
Dai smiled. “I would indeed, if you would be kind enough to take me to her office.”
The subadiuva suited her cognomen ‘Tacita’. She was a small, mouselike woman, with dark brown hair tied back into a neat knot at the back of her neck. She spoke in a very quiet voice, using the minimum of words required to answer Dai and Bryn’s enquiries.
“So you have no record that Zirri Yedder was ever here?”
“No.”
“No record of him sending an initial enquiry?”
“No.”
“And none that he was sent an invitation to attend a service here?”
She shook her head, her doe like eyes looking regretful. “I am sorry, dominus. We have no record of any of that.”
Bryn cleared his throat. “So can we have a complete list of who was invited the day he was seen to attend here?”
“Those names are…”
“And those for the two days before and after as well,” Dai added. “Please.”
“I would need the permission of the Pontifex,” Tacita said in little more than a whisper.
“No. You wouldn’t,” Dai assured her. “This is a murder investigation and as a pious man the Pontifex would not stand in the way of justice I am sure.”
She coloured slightly her hands lifting towards her face but pausing to fold over each other on her breasts. It was a gesture that made her look more mouselike than ever.
“I will have the information sent directly to your office later today, Submagistratus. But I will have to ask the Pontifex as he is the only one who has the password to access our archives.”
Defeated, Dai managed a polite leavetaking and headed back to Viriconium with Bryn and his own barely concealed annoyance for company.
***
The Villa Papaverus was a typical provincial dwelling for those Citizens of rank and status serving far from Rome and wanting to keep their civilized comforts. A large U-shaped building on two floors, set in the midst of its own estate, with a walled garden to the rear and outbuildings dotted around. It had become home to Dai Llewellyn and his new bride when he took on the role of Submagistratus in Demetae and Cornovii little less than a month previously. The villa went with the job as its official residence.
When the two men rolled up there in the late afternoon, Dai’s diminutive Roman wife, Julia, who had a shrewd handle on her husband and his friend, was waiting with a spicy dish of mutton and beans. She had asked their cook to heat and serve it when her husband told her he and Bryn were coming, and kept it hot over a spirit lamp.
“That smells a bit exotic,” Bryn was cautious, though clearly tempted.
“Worried me at first,” Dai admitted, “but my lady wife persuaded me and it goes down very well.”
While they ate, Julia sat quietly, assessing the mood as one of generalised frustration. When Bryn finally put his spoon down and barely suppressed a satisfied belch she eyed the pair with some asperity.
“You may as well tell me, you know. I will find out anyway.”
Prior to her marriage, Julia had been an Inquisitor in the Vigiles herself, reporting directly to the Praetor in Rome, so this was no idle boast.
Dying to be Cured by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook first appeared in Gods of Clay: A Sci Fi Roundtable Anthology.
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