Household Gods

It did – a little. Instead of feeling very hot and disconnected from the world around her, after an hour or so she felt hot and distantly connected to the world around her. She still didn’t feel good, or anything close to it. She snapped and railed at Julia and the children. Every little thing set her off; it was all she could do not to take it out on the customers. Of course she knew why she was so irritable, but she couldn’t help it. The words came out all by themselves, with nothing conscious in them at all.

Toward evening of what had seemed an endless day, Titus Calidius Severus crossed the street and swayed into the tavern. Maybe it was her fever, but he seemed to weave where he stood, like waterweeds in a current. He ordered bread and wine, but before Nicole could reach for the loaf, he grimaced and shook his head. “No, just wine,” he said, setting a dupondius on the bar. “The two-as. I haven’t had any appetite today. “

Nicole realized she’d hardly eaten anything, either. The thought of food, even food as bland as bread, made her stomach cringe. “How are you?” she asked as she brought the fuller and dyer his wine.

He studied her. It took a while; he seemed to have to pause and remember why he was doing it. Finally, he said, “About the same as you are, I expect.” He sighed and shook his head. “Not much point to pretending anymore, is there? We’ve got it, sure as sure.”

“Yes, I think we do,” Nicole said with a kind of relief. She hadn’t known how much effort it took to deny the truth. It was like a load off her back – even with the fear that replaced it, the bone-deep dread of death.

Calidius Severus frowned and stuck a finger in his ear, as if he didn’t think he’d heard right. “What was that?”

“Yes, I think we do,” Nicole repeated. Listening to the words, she realized they were in English. She said them again, this time in Latin.

“Ah.” Calidius face cleared. “I wondered if you couldn’t talk right, or if the fever was doing funny things to my ears. What were those noises you were making? Sounded almost like the grunts the Quadi use for a language.”

“I don’t know – I suppose it must be the fever.” Nicole had never made that kind of slip before. She hoped she never made it again. This time, at least, she had an excuse for it. Next time…

There couldn’t be a next time. There mustn’t be.

“The fever,” Titus Calidius Severus agreed. “And the eyes – I’m like an owl in the daylight.” Nicole nodded. He went on, “Then the rash comes – and then we find out if we live or die.” He tossed back the rest of his wine. “One way or the other, it won’t be too long.”

“No.” Back in Los Angeles, Nicole hadn’t worried about dying young, except for a few brief, dreadful moments on the freeway. She thought she should have been more upset. If she’d felt better, if she’d been more fully a part of the world, she would have been terrified. On the other hand, she wouldn’t have had so much to worry about if she’d felt better.

“Everyone else here well?” the fuller and dyer asked.

“So far,” Nicole said. “And your son?”

“Gaius is fine – so far, as you say,” Calidius Severus answered.

Wearily, blearily, Nicole shook her head. “My brother-in-law died today – Brigomarus brought me the news. By the time it’s over, half the people in town will be dead.”

“It’s not quite that bad,” Calidius Severus said, but before Nicole could feel even a little bit hopeful, he went on, “By what I’ve heard, down in Italy and Greece it’s killing one in four, maybe one in three. “

A fourth to a third of the people in Italy and Greece – dead? From a disease? A pestilence? Nicole thought again of the Black Plague, and of that TV documentary about the horrible things disease had done to the Native Americans. Again, the sickness already in her kept her from knowing the full weight of horror. Even through the fog, it was bad enough.

Titus Calidius Severus finished his wine, got up, and kissed Nicole on the cheek. His lips were warm, but not in a way she liked. “See you tomorrow, “ he said. When he spoke again, she thought he was talking more to himself than to her: “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The night was bad. Nicole alternately burned with fever and shook with chills. Coughing fits racked her. It was like the worst flu she’d ever had. But no antibiotics here, no painkillers, nothing but willow bark and tincture of time.

Morning came none too soon, and somewhat to her surprise. She was alive. She didn’t feel any worse when she staggered out of bed than she had when she fell into it, which was maybe good, and maybe just delusion.

Titus Calidius Severus was standing in his doorway when she opened up. He seemed as proud as she was, to be on his feet and moving.

The day was gray and nasty and chilly. She was almost glad of the fever that burned inside her. When the chills hit, they’d be all the worse, but meanwhile she didn’t need more than the tunic she’d put on when she got up.