by Ruth Downie
As they left the barge behind in Tolosa and climbed into the carriage to make the last stage of the journey through the mountains by road, it occurred to Ruso that there were whole days now when he hardly thought of the dreadful events they had left behind in Britannia. He abandoned the last crutch for a stick as his body began to heal along with his mind. He could not remember a time when he had been happier.
It was a pity he knew it wasn’t going to last.
Chapter 6
‘Brother! What are you doing here? What’s the matter with your foot?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be in the Army, Gaius?’
‘Uncle Gaius! Did you kill all the barbarians?’
The greetings and hot embraces filling the painted hallway gave no hint of the crisis that had brought him home.
‘Gaius, dear, is it really you? What a surprise!’
‘Mother!’ he said to Arria. He had practised the word until he no longer had to grit his teeth to say it. He thought it came out rather well.
‘You’re wounded!’
‘It’s nothing much,’ he assured her, and took Tilla by the arm. ‘Arria, this is –’
‘Uncle Gaius! Uncle Gaius, I’ve got a loose tooth!’
He bent awkwardly, leaning on the stick. ‘Want me to pull it out for you, Polla?’
His niece frowned and backed away. ‘I’m not Polla, Uncle. That’s Polla.’ She pointed at a bigger sister. ‘I’m Sosia.’
‘Sosia? Gods above, you’ve –’ He stopped himself just in time. ‘Of course. Sorry, Sosia. Good to see you. Everybody, this is –’
Someone was prodding his shoulder. ‘I’m Marcia,’ put in a girl who looked alarmingly like a young woman. ‘I’m your sister. Remember me?’
‘No, really?’ said Ruso, who remembered only too well. Her embrace warmed slightly when he murmured, ‘I haven’t forgotten about your dowry, you know.’
‘I need it now,’ she hissed. ‘And I’m not going to marry some rich old goat with spindly legs and hair in his ears, understand?’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ he agreed. ‘Marcia, where are Lucius and Cass?’
His sister shrugged. ‘Doing something boring on the farm, I suppose.’
Still no clues. Evidently Lucius had not told their sisters about the letter.
He correctly guessed the names of two nephews and limped across the hall to greet the row of waiting staff like a general addressing his troops at a surprise inspection.
‘Hello, Galla.’ The nursemaid’s hair had turned grey in his absence. The kitchen-boy had expanded upwards, the laundrymaid widthways, and Arria’s personal maid in all the right places. The cook’s apron was now being worn by a sour-faced man, the stable lad still smelled the same, and the bath-boy, who had been ancient when Ruso was a child, managed to impress simply by remaining alive. ‘It’s good to see you all,’ he said.
He was dredging his memory for names when his stepmother’s voice rang across the hall in a tone he remembered only too well.
‘Gaius, dear, who is this?’
As he glanced round at the assembled company, all now surveying the slender blonde figure just inside the doorway, the absurdity of the notion that he would be able to slip Tilla into the household almost unnoticed became clear.
A small voice at nephew level announced, ‘She’s got a red face.’
‘She’s got blue eyes.’
‘Why is her hair like that?’
‘Because she’s a barbarian, stupid!’ explained one of the nieces.
‘She’s British,’ said Ruso, as if that explained not only her appearance but her presence. ‘Everybody, this is Tilla. She’s our guest, so I want you all to make her welcome.’
This had the unfortunate effect of unleashing more curiosity.
‘Can she talk?’
‘Can we touch her?’
‘Is she fierce?’
‘Aaah!’ This last was from a dribbling toddler who had evidently learned early that he had to speak up to be noticed.
‘Yes, she can talk,’ said Ruso, looking around in vain for his sister-in-law to get the small interrogators under control. ‘And no, you can’t touch her. We’ve had a long journey, and she’s tired.’
One of Ruso’s sisters whispered something to the other, and they both giggled. Tilla’s expression was one he could not read and dared not speculate upon, but the child was right. Her cheeks were even pinker than the sunburn on her nose. Tendrils of hair, dark with sweat, were stuck to her forehead. ‘Sorry about this,’ he murmured to her.
Tilla grasped his hand and whispered, ‘What did you tell them about me?’
‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ he assured her.
The hastily assembled greeting party was evidently expecting a formal speech. Those eyes aren’t really blue, he wanted to tell them. Not up close. ‘Well,’ he said, searching desperately for something more appropriate. ‘Yes. Hullo, everybody. It’s good to be home.’ He was not sure it was true, but it was necessary to say it. ‘You all look very, ah –’
The eldest nephews had lost interest and begun to roll across the floor, punching each other. A niece shouted, ‘Stop it!’ while Galla made a futile attempt to intervene. Ruso glanced at the bust of his late father, impassively surveying the chaos from its niche beside the garlanded household shrine, and wondered what the old man would have made of this performance.
‘Children!’ Arria’s voice rose again over the babble. ‘Your kind Uncle Gaius has brought a real barbarian home for us all the way from Britannia. Isn’t that nice of him?’
There were confused murmurs of assent.
Ruso tried again. ‘Tilla,’ he said, gesturing towards Arria, ‘this is my stepmother, Arria –’
But Arria had not finished. ‘We must all set her a good example and look after her,’ she continued. ‘Galla, go and tell the driver to bring in the master’s luggage. Children, why don’t you all go and take – what do you call her?’
‘Tilla.’
‘Take Tilla to the kitchen and Cook will find her something to eat and drink. I expect she would like that.’ She turned to Ruso. ‘What do they eat, Gaius?’
The words ‘Small children’ were out before he could stop them. ‘Arria, where’s Lucius?’
• • •
The nieces and nephews were finally ushered away to the kitchen, taking both of Ruso’s half-sisters with them to protect them from the child-eating barbarian. Ruso, faintly ashamed of himself, was left alone with his stepmother.
‘Gaius, dear, what are you doing home? Are you on leave? What’s wrong with your foot?’
Evidently Arria knew nothing about Lucius’ letter. ‘Home to convalesce,’ he explained. ‘I need to see Lucius.’
‘I’ve sent one of the servants to fetch him. I must say, that’s a very strange young woman you’ve brought with you. Why is she dressed like that in this weather?’
‘Because those are her clothes.’ As far as Ruso was aware, Tilla had two sets of perfectly adequate second-hand clothes. These, if pushed, he could describe as ‘blue’. He could differentiate between them only as The One She’s Wearing and The One That’s Being Washed.
‘She can’t wear heavy wool like that here. I’ll ask one of the staff to find her something else.’
‘Is everything all right here? Where’s Cass?’
Arria sighed. ‘Who knows? As you see, the children are quite out of control. It’s such a relief to have you home, Gaius. Poor Lucius really has no idea. He’s letting everything go to waste – Gaius, dear, are you listening?’
Ruso rubbed his tunic against the small of his back to wipe away a trickle of sweat. ‘No.’
Arria sighed. ‘You must be tired after travelling. But I have to tell you this while I have the chance. You see how things are here. Your father would be so disappointed, after all that he did. I was hoping we would have your sisters married by now – Marcia, at least –’
‘I’ll sort out the girls’ dowries now I’m home,’ prom
ised Ruso, hoping Lucius was not going to tell him there was nothing to settle on either of their half-sisters.
‘In the meantime your brother and his wife do nothing but breed children who run around making sticky finger-prints on the furniture. The smallest one has no idea what a pot is for, and the staff are constantly sweeping up what they’ve broken. They’ve driven away three tutors already. Cassiana just indulges them, and Lucius is too taken up with his vines and his legal squabbles to notice. Galla’s worn out, and –’
‘What legal squabbles?’ said Ruso, suddenly paying attention.
‘He keeps telling me we can’t afford to replace Galla, but I’m sure we could –’
‘What legal squabbles, Arria?’
‘Do talk to him about it, dear, will you? It’s such a wretched nuisance. And now he’s got your sisters involved in it.’
‘Involved in what?’
‘Oh, something about a – seizure order, is it?’
‘Holy gods, Arria! There’s someone trying to auction off everything we own?’
His stepmother put one manicured finger to her lips. ‘Please don’t shout, dear. We’re not supposed to talk about it. Do what I do – just pretend you don’t know.’
Chapter 7
The shutters of his father’s old study opened with a screech that briefly silenced the chirrup of the cicadas outside. Sunlight spilled across the floor and threw the iron studs on the old wooden chest into sharp relief. Ruso crossed the room and slid one hand under the rim of the lid. Locked. Of course. Lucius would be wearing the key around his neck, just as their father had.
Ruso lowered himself on to the trunk and sat tapping out an impatient rhythm on the lid with both hands. He had travelled a thousand miles to find out exactly what sort of crisis his family had fallen into. Now the details were only inches away, but he had no access to them. Just as there had been no access to the details of the horrendous debts his father was incurring in a misguided attempt to bolster the family’s good standing and satisfy Arria’s demand for a ‘nice house’. Those, too, had been locked away in the dark secrecy of the trunk.
He got to his feet and limped across to the window. The air outside was no cooler. A couple of the cicadas had started singing again. He gazed north across the green of the vine-trellises to where distant wooded hills were dark against the sharp blue of the sky. Closer, something was shaking the leaves of the vines. He heard voices. Someone laughed. The top of a ladder appeared above the green, then sank away again. The farm slaves would be scrambling up amongst the trellises, cutting the grapes with curved knives and tossing them into baskets.
Three fat bunches dangled almost within reach of the window. Ruso wondered whether it was a good year for the vines. Lucius would know. Despite having spent most of his childhood here, Ruso had deliberately avoided learning anything about farming. It was an obstinacy of which he was no longer proud. Still, no amount of farming lore would help if the family really were about to be the subject of a seizure order.
He had once accompanied his father to the auction of a bankrupt neighbour’s property. It was like seeing an old person stripped naked in the street: all the neighbour’s battered pots and pans, ancient bath shoes, blankets and bedsteads – even a baby’s discarded feeding-bottle – lay shabby and exposed in the sunshine, while strangers glanced over them, wrinkled their noses and walked away. His father had stayed, bidding much too high for an old cart and a couple of hoes with worm-eaten handles while the neighbour stood grim-faced and his wife wept. At the time, Ruso had been too young to understand that his father was offering them the only kindness that was now possible.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He had given orders that he was not to be disturbed, unless Lucius –
It wasn’t. It was his sister-in-law.
‘Cass!’
‘Gaius! They told me you were here. What a lovely surprise!’
Surprise? Evidently Lucius had not even told his wife about that letter. When Ruso managed to extricate himself from the hug he said, ‘Thanks for all the parcels.’
While Lucius had sent urgent appeals for cash, his wife had softened them with winter woollens and jars of food from home and pictures drawn by the children.
She stepped back. ‘You look tired. I’ve told the bath-boy to light the fire. Lucius will be home soon. He’s doing some business in town. How are you? We heard about that dreadful rebellion in Britannia. Is that how you hurt your leg?’
‘Not exactly,’ confessed Ruso. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Oh, you poor thing! But is it true they had to send extra troops in?’
‘It’s mostly sorted out now,’ he assured her. He was not sure whether he was allowed to reveal that Hadrian had sent in the fresh troops not just as reinforcements, but as replacements for serious losses. ‘I haven’t seen you to congratulate you on, ah …’ He suddenly realized he did not know the name of the dribbling toddler.
‘We called him Gaius, after you – didn’t you know? Everyone says he looks just like you.’
‘Do they really?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Cass beamed at him, evidently thinking it was some sort of compliment.
‘The children seem very … lively.’
‘They’re dreadful, aren’t they?’ she agreed, as if it were something to be proud of. ‘But we’re so fortunate. Five healthy children! Every day I give thanks for them. You never know, do you? Polla had a terrible fever a while ago, then little Lucius broke his arm, and last month Sosia was ill – Arria was so cross about the cushions but she couldn’t help it, could she? We tried everything. It was a pity you weren’t here, Gaius.’
‘Mm.’
‘They’ll be so glad you’re home. They do miss their Uncle Justinus terribly.’
‘Justinus? Is he away somewhere?’
She stared at him. ‘But Lucius told you, surely?’
‘The letter must have got held up. What’s happened?’
She shook her head. ‘We don’t know,’ she said. ‘That’s the worst part. My brother went on a merchant ship from Arelate down to Ostia back in June and …’ Her voice tailed off. ‘The ship never arrived,’ she said. ‘They could be shipwrecked on an island or something, couldn’t they? Waiting to be rescued.’
Since it was now September, Ruso could not pretend that this was likely.
‘If it was pirates …’ Her voice trembled into silence.
Ruso hoped she was not going to cry. He was never sure what to do with women when they cried.
She swallowed. ‘We would just like to know.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The last time he had met Cass’s brother was in the house of Ruso’s former father-in-law, where Justinus was a respected if somewhat put-upon steward. ‘What was he doing at sea?’
‘Probus sent him to oversee some sort of business deal. You probably heard about it. The Pride of the South.’ She paused, evidently expecting this would mean something to him.
Ruso did not want to tell her that ships went down every day. That unless the Pride had been carrying something valuable, or somebody famous, it was unlikely that anyone except her owners and the families of the crew would mourn her loss or even bother to remark upon it.
‘We were on a different sea,’ he explained. ‘He’d have been going south. We came down the west coast and across.’
‘What about the men on the river barges? Didn’t anybody say anything at all?’
‘They might have thought it was bad luck,’ he said, trying to soften the blow of public indifference.
‘He was so excited about seeing Rome,’ she said. ‘He had some wine from the Senator’s estate to deliver. He dropped in on the way to Arelate to say goodbye.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ruso, and meant it. ‘I liked Justinus.’
She hesitated, as if she was wondering whether to continue. ‘Lucius says I ought to give up hope,’ she said. ‘He says we should build the tomb and call his spirit home and let it rest.’
Rus
o, scenting a marital dispute, said, ‘He’s probably worried about you.’
‘He’s right, isn’t he? If we don’t do it …’ She did not need to explain. Her brother’s spirit would be left wandering lost and alone, unable to find peace.
‘There really aren’t many pirates out there these days, Cass. If there’s been no word in three months –’
‘I know! I know all that. I was going to say yes to having the tomb built, but … oh, now I don’t know what to do!’ She glanced round to make sure the door was closed. ‘Gaius, you know Probus better than any of us. If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret?’
Ruso hoped his face did not betray his rising sense of foreboding at the mention of his former father-in-law.
‘Probus came to see me a couple of weeks ago. He wanted to know whether I was sure my brother was dead.’
Whatever Ruso had been expecting, it was not this. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. He seemed to be angry about something, but he wouldn’t say what.’
Ruso refrained from pointing out that, in his experience, Probus usually looked angry about something.
‘So I said to him, you were the one who told me the ship was missing in the first place, and all he said was, “Yes.” When I wanted to know why he was asking, whether he’d heard something, he just told me to forget all about it and not say anything to anybody.’
It certainly seemed odd, not to mention deeply insensitive. ‘Do you want me to talk to him?’
‘No! He’ll know I’ve told you. What’s the matter with him, Gaius? Why would he ask a question like that? It was as if he thought Justinus might have run away. So now I don’t know what to do. If we call his spirit to a tomb and he’s still alive somewhere – what would happen to him?’