by Ruso
Ruso waited. If he could glean some information to help Cass, this would not have been such a wasted meeting.
‘It’s my suspicion,’ said Probus, ‘that the captain and the crew sold the cargo – or possibly there never was one in the first place – and then scuttled the ship, which my informants now tell me was practically worthless. Presumably Severus paid next to nothing for it, despite having taken a large sum of money from me to invest in a decent vessel. They may have done away with Justinus and stolen the letters, or he may have joined them and used the letters himself to defraud me. What matters is that this is kept confidential. If there’s any whisper of suspicion that there are unauthorized letters of credit circulating around the banking fraternity in my name …’
‘You’d be ruined. Nobody would ever trust your seal again.’
‘This is only a short-term problem,’ insisted Probus. ‘The letters had cash limits and an expiry date on them. All I have to do is weather the storm. But after the loss I sustained on the ship in the first place, it’s a considerable nuisance.’
Ruso thought for a moment. Over the years experience had formed a small clearing in the fog of his commercial ignorance, and it had revealed some of the dangerous terrain of borrowing and lending. ‘Who else put money into the shipping deal?’
Probus visibly stiffened. ‘I was acting alone.’
‘I’m surprised,’ observed Ruso. ‘With that large a risk, I’d have thought you’d want to spread it. The first trips went well. Severus seemed to know what he was doing. I’d have thought you might suggest to a few clients that, if they had money to spare, they might want to invest it in something that would give them a good percentage.’
‘I was acting alone,’ insisted Probus. ‘It was a family arrangement between myself and my son-in-law.’
‘Come on, Probus! Most of your reputation is built on introducing rich lenders to good borrowers.’
‘Will you keep your voice down?’ hissed Probus, halfway out of his chair. ‘You have no idea how these things are arranged!’ When Ruso made no attempt to argue, he settled back down again. ‘Even if there were other investors, I couldn’t possibly divulge their names,’ he insisted. ‘No more than you would divulge details of a patient. Everyone who invests in shipping knows they risk losing their money. That’s why the interest rates are so good.’
‘So you haven’t told your investors that you think they were swindled by the man you recommended to them.’
‘Even if there were other people involved,’ said Probus, skirting round the question, ‘none of them has complained. So if nobody suspects anything, nobody would have a motive to do away with Severus.’
‘And they won’t be asking you to refund their money.’
Probus winced. ‘Ruso, try not to interfere in things you don’t understand. The loss of the ship is not relevant to the murder.’ He leaned closer. ‘If word gets out, Claudia will be ruined. All she has is what I can give her. It looks as though that worthless husband left her nothing at all.’
‘So who’s got the money? He can’t have set all this up for nothing.’
‘I have no idea. If it’s here, he hid it away somewhere neither Claudia nor I can trace it. Possibly it’s all still over in Arelate with his contact there.’
Ruso looked up. ‘He’s got a man in the port?’
Probus sighed. ‘Of course he has. You don’t imagine he made all the arrangements from this distance by himself, do you?’
‘Who is he? This contact?’
‘I always assumed he kept the name to himself so I couldn’t deal with the man direct and cut him out altogether. I’ve been told since that he was called Ponticus. He must have been in one of the marine shipping guilds, but nobody seems to know how to find him now. There’s a rumour he drowned on the ship with the captain and crew.’
‘If he’s that heavily involved in a fraud, he probably started the rumour himself.’
‘He’s not someone I want to do business with,’ agreed Probus. ‘The sooner I can wash my hands of this whole affair, the better.’
‘What I can’t understand,’ said Ruso, ‘is how you can know that Severus was doing business with violent and ruthless criminals who did away with your own man, and yet when Severus himself is poisoned, you’re confident it didn’t have anything to do with the shipping deal. Is there something else you’re not telling me?’
Probus frowned. ‘Obviously it wasn’t the same people. Severus was on their side.’
Ruso reached for his stick. ‘You need to go and have a serious talk with your daughter, Probus. There are things she might tell you that she won’t tell me.’
‘What? Why? Claudia knows nothing about any of this.’ Probus’ voice rose as Ruso stood. ‘I thought we had an understanding.’
‘Talk to her.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To Arelate,’ he said. ‘There’s something else going on here. Something I think the investigators might already know about. I’m going to find out what it is.’
47
‘You haven’t seen Tilla, have you?’
The slave brought his hand-cart to a halt on the way to the midden heap. ‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Never mind,’ said Ruso, heading towards the winery. It was a shame the boy was not a year or two older. Before long, he would have no difficulty remembering whether he had seen a young woman like Tilla.
The winery contained only his brother. Lucius did not look well enough for a trip to Arelate, even if he could be persuaded that anything useful might be found out when they got there.
Ruso leaned on one of the tree-trunks that supported the press and watched the precious juice ooze out and trickle down the sides of the slats. Deliberately casual, he said, ‘How’s the head?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my head,’ growled Lucius, squinting at the angle of the massive main beam and checking the pulley ropes that held it in position. ‘Why is it if a man has a few things to say, everyone assumes he’s drunk?’
Ruso moved away from the press and began to pick his way between the rows of jars set in the floor. The magic of fermentation had begun. Yesterday’s juice had vanished beneath a froth that sparkled in the streak of sunlight from the double doors. By contrast, the black pitch that coated the insides of the empty jars made them look like the openings of tunnels into a dark underworld. He said, ‘I take it Tilla’s somewhere around with Cass?’
‘Cass has been avoiding me all morning. I don’t know what the fuss is about. If people would listen in the first place, I wouldn’t have to shout.’
Ruso reached the far wall and turned. From here, his brother’s bulk was dwarfed by the colossal apparatus of the press. He said, ‘The investigators have turned up.’
Lucius glared at him across the jars. ‘You said we had weeks!’
Ruso explained the coincidence of them being over in Aquae Sextiae.
‘Why?’
‘There must be something else going on that we don’t know about. Maybe the Senator sent them to keep an eye on Severus.’
Lucius gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘They’ll be crawling all over us here before you can blink. How far have you got with saving the family by geometry?’
Ruso wove his way back between the jars, realizing he knew very little that he was yet prepared to tell anyone.
Lucius dipped a scoop into one of the jars and tasted the contents. ‘Well?’
‘When I was in Britannia –’
‘You told me. Gaius. Does it ever occur to you to wonder why you get tangled up in this sort of business?’
‘I was only going to say, things often get worse before they get better.’
Lucius gave a grunt. ‘I hope that comes out with a bit more conviction when you say it to your patients.’ He took another sip from beneath the froth in the scoop. ‘Mm. That’s about ready for the concentrate.’
Ruso, feeling he should take an interest, tipped the scoop and savoured the rich juice that slid out fro
m beneath the froth.
Lucius pulled the cloth cover off a jug and tasted the contents before pouring the rest into the jar he had just sampled and giving it a vigorous stir. He said, ‘Let’s hope they turn up tonight.’
‘Who?’
‘The Senator’s men. Arria’s invited that Diphilus to dinner. I’m surprised anyone dares to eat here.’
‘She’s invited the widow next door as well.’
Lucius tapped the last drops off the scoop. ‘Lollia Saturnina?’ he said, dipping it in a rinsing-bucket and wiping it dry. ‘Might not be so bad, then. As long as nobody mentions bankruptcy or poisoning.’
‘Or the Pride of the South?’
The silence that followed revealed more about the depths of the previous night’s marital row than the shouting had. Ruso was about to change the subject when Lucius said, ‘This thing with Justinus has sent her odd in the head. Your Briton hasn’t helped, telling her Severus as good as murdered her brother by hiring a rotten ship. What’s the matter with these women?’
‘I haven’t got time to speculate.’
‘Now she’s got some mad idea about me going round interrogating sailors. As if I’ve got time to rush off to Arelate in the middle of the vintage!’
So that was what the argument had been about. Grateful for the cue, Ruso said, ‘I’ll go.’
Lucius looked at him oddly. ‘You?’
‘If the investigators turn up while I’m gone, don’t say anything about the ship unless they ask. If they do ask, make it clear that Cass didn’t know what state it was in before yesterday, so she had no more reason to dislike Severus than the rest of us.’
‘You mean you knew as well? Gods above! How many other people has that woman of yours told? It’s complete rubbish. I tried to explain to Cass last night, but she wouldn’t listen. If you want to get rid of someone you do it secretly on dry land. You don’t go paying for a ship and drowning a whole lot of sailors as well. She’s not thinking straight.’
‘I’ll try and sort it out,’ promised Ruso.
‘I won’t need the cart tomorrow,’ said Lucius. ‘You can take that bloody interfering barbarian as well.’
‘I could ride across this afternoon.’
‘Justinus can wait, Brother. He’s dead. And so will you be if you don’t turn up tonight for Arria’s dinner.’
48
Ruso was applying himself to the clumsy process of climbing the porch steps when he found himself facing his stepmother.
‘There you are, Gaius! Where have you been? We need to talk about the seating plan.’
‘Have you seen Tilla anywhere?’
‘You will shave before dinner, won’t you? We want Lollia to think you’ve made an effort. When I think of the wonderful dinner parties we used to have when your poor father was alive …’
‘Have you seen Tilla?’
‘Now, the seating plan –’
‘Tilla?’
‘No, dear. I expect she’s with the farm slaves.’
Arria was as surprised as everyone else when he told her the Senator’s investigators had arrived.
He said, ‘They’ll probably want to question us all.’
‘But we don’t know anything!’
‘We know what happened. We’re the only ones who do.’
She sighed. ‘Oh, Gaius. I do wish you hadn’t made such a fuss. Why can’t you just tell them you’ve changed your mind, and you’ve just realized he was ill?’
‘Why would I say that?’
‘Well, dear, I would have thought that was obvious.’
It was, but he did not want to admit it. He said, ‘If you were poisoned, would you want somebody to pretend you weren’t?’
‘Really, Gaius! There’s no need –’
‘I’m trying to do the right thing, Arria.’
‘So are we all, dear. So what shall I say to them?’
He said, ‘Tell them what you know.’
‘But what I know looks so bad! There you are, shut up in a room with him, and the next thing that happens –’
‘Had nothing to do with me,’ said Ruso, edging past her in the direction of the kitchen. ‘If it did, I’d make up a better story. What’s for lunch?’
Arria put a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Please don’t upset Cook, dear. You can’t imagine what it does to the pastry. And by the way, what did you say to Marcia yesterday? She was terribly cross.’
‘We talked about a dowry,’ he said, not in the mood to go over what he had since learned about Tertius the gladiator. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘Well, you’ll have to settle something on her now, dear. Who’s going to marry her when everybody thinks you poisoned Claudia’s husband?’
Ruso knew quite well that the yolk of hard-boiled egg was prone to disintegration. He should have brought a bowl. Instead, he was seated in front of the pile of unpaid bills and making an undignified attempt to lick scattered grey and yellow crumbs out of his cupped hands when someone tapped on the study door.
‘What?’ he demanded, slapping the remains of the egg from his hands and wiping them on his tunic in a manner of which his mother would not have approved.
The end of Galla’s ‘Please, sir, may I …’ was inaudible.
‘Open the door, woman!’ he called, wondering whether her common sense had finally deserted her or whether he really was as terrifying as she seemed to think.
He clapped a bill from the wheelwright shut and looked up to see her standing in the doorway, clutching a tray of dirty wooden bowls and grubby napkins. ‘Is this important? I’m busy.’
Galla shuffled in and pushed the door shut with her foot. ‘Yes, sir.’
He leaned across the desk and helped himself to a small loaf of bread from the corner of the tray. Failing to find any sign of teethmarks or dribble on it, he said, ‘Has this been anywhere it shouldn’t be?’
‘No, sir. Miss Polla didn’t want it.’
Ruso sat back and tore off a chunk of bread. ‘Well?’
‘Thank you for letting me back in the house, sir.’
‘It was only sensible. Is that what you came to tell me?’
‘No, sir.’ Galla appeared to raise herself to her full height – which was not great – before taking a deep breath and announcing to a point just below his chin, ‘Tilla is gone to Arelate, my lord.’
‘She’s what?’ The bread landed on top of the wheelwright’s bill.
The repeat of this surprising statement was mumbled to the tray, as if Galla had used up all her courage in saying it the first time.
‘Gods almighty! Why didn’t you come and tell me this earlier? When did she go?’
‘I couldn’t find you, sir. I think she went just after dawn. She told me to say she was sorry not to say goodbye.’
‘But what in Jupiter’s name does she want to go there for?’
Galla gripped the outside of the tray and pushed the edge back into the folds of her tunic as if it were a protective barrier between them. ‘I asked her not to go, my lord.’
‘This is ridiculous. I thought she’d got over this sort of wandering off. It’ll take her all day to walk that far in this heat, and she’ll probably be robbed on the way. Where’s she going to sleep?’
Galla cleared her throat. ‘She was hoping for a lift. She talked to a man with a cart.’
‘Which man?’
‘Solemnis, my lord.’
‘Never heard of him. Who does he work for? What the hell does he think he’s playing at?’
Galla looked as though she was going to burst into tears. ‘He is … a friend of a friend, sir.’
‘Can he be trusted?’
‘He is a follower of Christos, my lord.’
‘You mean she’s run off to join some weird religion?’
‘No, sir. They have gone to find out about the ship.’
‘They?’
‘Mistress Cassiana is gone too.’
Ruso stood up and flung the first stack of bills back into the trunk. ‘Pu
t that bloody tray down,’ he ordered, snatching up his stick. ‘Lock the rest of this stuff away, then take the key down to Lucius in the winery. Tell him his wife’s run off to Arelate with Tilla and a – no, leave out the religious bit. Tell him I’ve gone to get them back before they get into trouble.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘As if we haven’t got enough problems! Why didn’t you send me a message? Why didn’t you tell somebody?’
The girl opened her mouth as if she were about to speak, then closed it again.
‘Don’t stand there gasping like a fish! Say it!’
Galla swallowed again. ‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ she said, lifting a pile of documents from the desk. ‘I couldn’t find you, and I did not know who else to tell.’ She knelt to tidy the jumble of tablets and scroll cases in the trunk.
She had a point. Who would she tell? Arria, who had let Tilla tread grapes? The girls, who had abandoned Tilla themselves?
‘You could have told my brother.’
‘Mistress Cassiana told me to look after the children and not to say anything, sir.’
Of course. Rocking sideways to rest his weight on the stick, Ruso said, ‘There must be times, Galla, when you wish you were part of a different household.’
‘Never, my lord.’
‘Really?’ Swinging round to head for the door, he muttered, ‘It must be just me and Marcia, then.’
From the top of the steps, he could see over the wall to where the stable lad was lugging buckets of water across the yard. ‘I need Severus’ horse tacked up!’ he called. ‘Now!’
49
Brother Solemnis had hardly spoken a word since they had set off this morning. Tilla watched him from her none-too-comfortable seat on a bundle of hides in the back of the cart and wondered if he was praying for the protection of his god. On top of the usual carter’s worries about lame animals, breakdowns, bad roads, damaged goods and bandits, he had now been accosted by a barbarian woman and a stranger, demanding a lift to Arelate. She suspected he had only taken them because he was too frightened to refuse.