by Ruso
Cass seized her arm. ‘I knew there was something! I knew there was something not right!’
‘That is why I cursed the person who hired out the ship to Severus,’ explained Tilla. ‘He must have known. He deserves to die too. Your brother is dead because that person was greedy.’
‘What else did Galla tell you? Why would the captain try and get to Ostia on something that wasn’t seaworthy? Has she heard anything else?’
‘I do not know. You must ask her.’
‘But it means there are people who know things!’
‘She overheard this from the fish-sellers at the market.’
Cass’s face fell. ‘I’ve already tried them. They won’t talk to me. Lucius won’t go to Arelate and ask, and Gaius has too much to do already.’
‘Yes,’ said Tilla, wondering whether this new god could be speaking in the words of Cassiana. ‘I know.’
44
Tilla was nervous walking through the garden in the cool of the morning, clutching her bag in one hand and a borrowed straw hat in the other. The air around her was silent apart from the call of a bird and the plants rustling in the breeze. The screeching insects had not woken up yet.
The dog at the gate sniffed at her curiously as she slipped back the bolts, but he was trained to stop people coming in, not going out. She pulled the gate gently shut behind her and said a silent goodbye to the strange household where she had spent the last three days. She had her savings, four and a half denarii, and her comb in a little leather pouch hung around her neck. Her cloak was bundled inside her bag in case she had to sleep outdoors, and her knife was strapped to her belt.
Travelling alone and unprotected to a strange city seemed far more dangerous this morning than it had last night. She had almost lost her nerve as she watched the Medicus sleeping. She heard the steady rhythm of his breath falter. Heard him mutter something as he dreamed. Waiting, motionless, until he settled again, she told herself both their lives would be less complicated if she were away for a couple of days. Indeed, their lives would be less complicated if they had never met, but she did not want to think about that. She only knew that, if she stayed, she would have to face an evening lying across a dining couch in a borrowed dress – probably yellow again, so that her skin would look grey and her hair would look dirty – while all these foreigners wished she had not come so that the Medicus could propose to Lollia Saturnina.
She had kissed him lightly on the forehead, picked up her things and crept out of the room.
Reaching the roadside, she trained her eyes on the western approach and watched for the cart to appear. She reminded herself that she had the protection of the God Who Is Everywhere. Just in case the god needed a reminder, she lifted her hands and prayed that he would keep her safe. That he would look after the Medicus while she was away. That he would help her find out about the Pride of the South. That Lollia Saturnina would have a laugh like a donkey, or dribble down her chin. ‘Amen,’ she added at the end, remembering the formula. It was important to get the words right, or the prayer would not be heard. Everyone knew that, and besides, it would not do to get on the wrong side of a god who was everywhere and saw everything.
There was a great deal she did not understand about this Christos, and she felt no better for praying to him. But she understood that Cass’s brother had died because of someone else’s greed, and that a means of getting to Arelate to find out the truth had been presented to her while she was in the presence of the god’s worshippers. She had upset Cass last night without meaning to, and she needed to make amends. Besides, she was the only one who could help. The Medicus was too worried about debts and murder, and Cass’s husband was no use. Most of the household must have heard him shouting at her again last night. The Medicus, who had barely spoken to Tilla since she had returned from the meeting next door, had pinched out the lamp and observed that Lucius and wine were not a good combination.
‘You should talk to him.’
‘He wouldn’t listen.’
She said, ‘I hear the widow next door is coming to dinner.’
‘And Diphilus the builder.’
‘She is the one who is very pretty and very rich.’
There was only a brief pause before, ‘Diphilus isn’t.’
‘Even if you find out who did poison that man, you will still have no money.’
She felt the warmth of his sigh on her shoulder. ‘I’m going to have to face a difficult decision before long, Tilla.’
She did not ask what that decision was. She did not need to. All she said was, ‘Not tonight.’
‘No.’ He nestled his head in against her. ‘Not tonight.’
A train of donkeys loaded with panniers of lettuces and onions plodded past on the way to market. Minutes later the driver of a cart reined in his mule, called, ‘Oi! Gorgeous! Going into town?’ and pointed to the seat beside him. She told him she was waiting for someone, and he drove on.
Tilla tried to push away the memories of the last time she had been taken away on a cart from a place she did not want to be. She hoped she was not making another terrible mistake. Instead of rescuing her, that driver had turned out to be even worse than the people from whom she was fleeing. If it had not been for the Medicus’ intervention she would not be alive now. What if Brother Solemnis turned out to be another crook? He had not looked like a criminal – in fact he had looked distinctly alarmed at being asked for a lift by a strange foreign woman. But she had been wrong last time. She shivered and rubbed the scar on the arm that her kidnapper had smashed when she tried to escape. The arm the Medicus had insisted on trying to mend when others would have played safe and left her to try and survive with only one hand.
She should have said something to him about this journey. He did not deserve to be abandoned without a word. But if he had known, there would have been an argument. He would have had to pretend he wanted her to stay and eat dinner with the rich widow.
Tilla’s gaze followed the track of the long shadow that stretched away from her feet in the direction of the town. There was still no sign of the man from Arelate.
At her feet, the tiniest ants she had ever seen were swarming around a dead bee, shifting first one end and then the other, nudging their charge along through the dust. Others were scurrying to and fro along an invisible track, carrying back news of the discovery to their nest.
She put on the hat she had borrowed late last night from Galla. Now the tall thin person in the shadow had a huge round head.
The clang of a distant bell made her look up. If Brother Solemnis did not turn up in a minute, she would be missed at the house. Perhaps she had said the prayer wrong. Perhaps the new god was too busy being everywhere to stop here and listen to one woman.
The bee was being hustled away into the dry grass at the side of the road.
This trip was a very big mistake. She should face up to Lollia Saturnina instead of running away. She must go back now, before someone from the house saw the family guest standing at the roadside with a travelling bag.
But then who would find out about Cass’s brother?
‘I am going to count to ten,’ she told the god. To be fair, she would do it very slowly. Then, if the driver was not here, she would walk back down the track and hope the dog would not make a fuss when she sneaked back in through the unbolted gate.
By the time she had reached eight, her hopes of a reprieve were rising. On ‘nine’ they were dashed. There was a vehicle approaching in the distance. There were also footsteps running up the track behind her.
‘Stop!’ cried Cass, breathless, struggling with a bright blue-and-green-striped bag slung over her shoulder.
Ten. She had been caught. Feeling relieved and rather silly, Tilla picked up her own bag and turned to walk back to the house.
‘Galla told me,’ called Cass. ‘Don’t go without me!’
45
Tilla had wandered off somewhere by the time Ruso woke. She would be with Cass or Galla, keeping out of Arria’s way.
Lucius was nowhere to be seen either: probably sleeping off last night’s wine and bad behaviour. Ruso was not sorry. He had nothing amicable to say to him, and he did not want any more discussions about Who, How or Why. He knew the answers now. What he did not know was what he was going to do about them.
Before Ruso could dismount from the mule, the one-eyed gatekeeper silenced the dog with ‘Oi, Brutus!’ and said, ‘Miss Claudia’s not here, sir.’
‘You mean she’s not on the premises, or she’s not allowed to see me?’
The eye met Ruso’s own. ‘I wouldn’t want to lie to you, sir.’
‘But you would, if you were ordered to.’
The scars folded around a grin. ‘I would, sir. Miss Claudia’s not here. Can I say something, sir?’
The man’s attitude seemed to have warmed considerably since the last visit, perhaps as a result of Ruso’s conversation with Flaccus the kitchen-boy. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Some of us hope you get away with it.’
‘It wasn’t me!’
The one eye blinked slowly, and Ruso realized the man was winking at him.
‘It wasn’t!’
‘If you say so, sir. You might want to know the investigators have arrived, sir.’
Ruso stared into the eye. ‘That’s impossible. The message was only sent a couple of days ago.’
‘Turns out they were just down the road in Aquae Sextiae, sir. On some other business for the Senator.’
This was not only bad news, it was an amazing coincidence. ‘Are you sure?’
‘One of ’em’s a smartarse called Calvus,’ the doorman told him. ‘His mate’s just here to provide some muscle.’ Before Ruso could ask how he knew, the man added, ‘I haven’t got no instructions to lie about them, sir, see? I just let them in a minute ago. If you want to talk to them, I’ll go and ask.’
‘No thanks,’ said Ruso, gathering up the reins of the mule. He urgently needed to talk with Claudia but the last thing he intended to do was to walk straight into the arms of the official investigators.
Ruso turned the mule and was just persuading it into a trot when the man called, ‘Hold on a minute, sir, I was wrong. Miss Claudia’s here after all.’
Claudia was there, but so was the gatekeeper, and behind her he could see Zosimus the steward hurrying towards them. The conversation he needed to have with her would be impossible. The best he could do was to beckon her outside the gatehouse and respond to her frantic ‘Gaius, there are men here asking questions!’ with ‘Have you been lying to me?’
‘Me? No! Ennia’s the one who tells lies. All this nonsense about the marvellous boyfriend in Rome? I said why doesn’t he come and fetch her, then, and it turns out he’s been dead for years! She only wants to go back there because nobody here will have her.’
‘Claudia, listen. I’ve talked to the root-cutter.’
‘Who?’ Claudia’s face was impressively blank.
He glanced over his shoulder. There was no time to be subtle. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’
‘What? What was me?’
He was not going to pretend he had to explain.
The manicured nails dug into his arms. ‘Who’s been telling you lies?’
‘He described you.’
‘Who? Gaius, what are you talking about?’
Suddenly he felt weary. ‘Just tell the truth, Claudia. Please. For the sake of the staff. The investigators will find out sooner or later anyway.’
‘But I didn’t –’
Her protest was cut off by the arrival of Zosimus, backed up by the gatekeeper and the gatekeeper’s dog. Ruso was not allowed on to the Senator’s property. An official inquiry was under way. If he had anything to say, he could say it to the investigators when they were ready. In the meantime, he was to stop harassing the bereaved family.
Ruso had never seen Claudia look so frightened as when Zosimus escorted her back towards the gate.
46
Probus’ slave ushered Ruso through an entrance hall that had changed little in the years since his last visit. The heavy iron-bound chests in which his former father-in-law kept other people’s money were still flanked by two surly-faced men armed with clubs and daggers. The man who had told him about Marcia’s attempts to borrow money, now back on duty, showed no sign of recognizing him. He followed the slave out into the garden, where he had once asked for Claudia’s hand in marriage, and wondered whether Probus knew that she had murdered her latest husband.
Probus was seated by a fountain that much resembled the one in Ruso’s own garden, except that it was built properly and it worked. When the slave had been dismissed, he said, ‘Keep your voice down. We won’t be heard over the water.’
Evidently Probus did not trust his staff any more than he trusted Ruso, who perched on the side of the fountain and trailed one hand in the cool water. He wondered what Claudia was telling the investigators. None of it would answer any of his own questions: questions like how she had managed to poison Severus without harming the rest of the household, and why he had been such a fool as to believe her.
Probus was still talking. ‘… but I haven’t heard anything.’
Ruso cleared his throat. ‘Anything about what?’
The corners of Probus’ mouth turned down even further than usual. ‘You were the one who wanted to meet, Ruso. Kindly have the courtesy to listen.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You wanted to know about Severus’ business affairs.’
Ruso nodded, although in the light of what he now knew, they were of limited interest.
‘Everyone knows the Gabinii are hard men if you cross them, but until recently I thought he was honest. If I hadn’t, I would never have loaned him the money for the shipping deals.’
‘Or let him marry your daughter,’ put in Ruso.
‘Of course not.’
Ruso had been considering telling Probus what he had found out about Claudia, but the arrival of the investigators had changed everything. With luck, they would find out about her for themselves. He would be clear of the murder charge without incriminating her himself or incurring Probus’ revenge in the process. On the other hand, her denial had been remarkably convincing …
‘… whether it was Justinus all along,’ Probus was saying.
Ruso did not like to admit that his attention had wandered again. He said, ‘Ah.’
‘But Justinus was with me for fourteen years and was always entirely reliable.’
‘Like his sister,’ put in Ruso.
‘I like to think I know how to judge a man,’ continued Probus, ‘but when the letters of credit started appearing in different ports after the ship had gone down, it was difficult to know what conclusion to draw.’
Ruso frowned. ‘You mean things turned up later that should have been at the bottom of the sea?’
Probus gave a tut of exasperation. ‘You’ve never really understood how business works, have you, Ruso?’
‘No. Did you say there was more than one shipping deal?’
‘This was the third. The others had gone smoothly, so I had no reason to suspect there was anything wrong when Severus asked for a bigger investment.’
Probus’ voice was calm, but there was a faint involuntary flicker of the left eyelid that Ruso had not noticed before.
‘When Justinus left here, he was carrying a certain amount of cash, but certainly not enough to fund him for the whole trip or purchase the cargoes. That was arranged in the usual way, with letters authorizing him to withdraw cash up to specified amounts from bankers in the various ports with whom I have arrangements. Since the ship disappeared, someone has been going round withdrawing the cash.’
‘So you started to wonder if he really was dead and went to ask Cass if she’d heard from him?’
‘He may be dead,’ continued Probus, oblivious to any distress he might have caused. ‘Or he may have been part of a conspiracy to rob me. As I’m fairly certain Severus was.’
‘The letters could have been washed up on a
beach somewhere. Anybody could have got hold of them.’
‘Justinus had orders to keep them on his person at all times and destroy them in the event of shipwreck.’
‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t!’ Probus seemed to startle himself with the sudden exclamation. He glanced around the colonnades that surrounded the garden, then dropped his voice again for ‘I accept that you probably didn’t kill Severus. I don’t know who did and, frankly, I’m not interested. He was a serious disappointment, he lost me a lot of money, and my advice to Claudia was to get rid of him.’
He caught Ruso’s eye and added, ‘Divorce him, of course.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Ruso. ‘Divorce him. Unless you and she decided to take revenge on him together.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ruso. We don’t all do business like the Gabinii.’
Probus dismissed the possibility so summarily that Ruso was inclined to believe him.
‘But if you stir up some false connection between Severus’ death and this shipping business,’ Probus continued, ‘the Senator’s investigator will start poking around in all sorts of affairs that could have …’ He paused. ‘Unintended consequences.’
‘There may already be a whisper in Rome that Severus was up to something,’ said Ruso. ‘Did you know that two investigators have arrived this morning? Apparently they were already up here.’
Probus was as surprised as Ruso had been, and no more pleased. He leaned back in his seat and surveyed his former son-in-law. ‘Let’s hope they can be persuaded to keep out of things that don’t concern the inquiry.’
‘I think they’ll be the ones doing the persuading.’
Probus sighed. ‘You may be clueless about business, Ruso, but until now you were always fairly good at keeping your mouth shut.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And you do appear to have some residual sense of duty to my daughter. So I’m going to tell you exactly what I think happened, and then perhaps you’ll understand why it’s so important that I know if your Cassiana hears from her brother. At the same time you’ll understand what a difficult position you’ll put me in if you aren’t discreet.’