Ruso and the River of Darkness

by R. S. Downie

  As if they had rehearsed their parts, Metellus said, ‘The Governor wouldn’t like to take any action that might upset them, or look as though we’re threatening the independence of Verulamium.’

  ‘However,’ continued the Procurator, ‘since you’ve brought this forgery business to our attention, we can hardly ignore it.’

  It seemed that Ruso’s uncovering of a capital crime had caused them a major inconvenience. He said, ‘The men called Dias and Rogatus have murdered four people between them, sir. And I’m willing to bet that the Magistrate Gallonius knew all along. He was definitely providing the silver for the false coins.’

  ‘As I said, we have read the report.’

  ‘The murders aren’t anything to worry about,’ said Metellus. ‘Just the natives quarrelling amongst themselves. I know they tried to suffocate you with a brazier, Ruso, but there’s not enough credible evidence to bring a case.’

  ‘But if you interview the mansio staff –’

  ‘We don’t want to be accused of interfering.’ The Procurator winced as he reached for the notes on his desk. ‘We might have executed the three of them for forgery, but according to your report you’ve already informed the locals on my behalf that the forgers were …’ He ran one finger down the notes, ‘two men called Asper and Nico, who are already dead.’

  ‘I didn’t tell them that directly, sir, I only said –’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what you said,’ put in Metellus. ‘What matters is what they think they heard.’

  ‘If we start arresting other people now,’ said the Procurator, ‘it’s going to look as though we don’t know what we’re doing.’

  ‘And if you don’t deal with them, sir,’ put in Ruso, ‘they’re going to think they can get away with anything they like.’

  ‘Apparently they can,’ said Metellus. ‘All they have to do is appear to threaten our investigator’s wife, and he’ll do whatever they want.’

  Ruso felt his fists clench. He addressed the Procurator. ‘I did my best in the circumstances, sir.’

  The Procurator sighed. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Ruso. When you had the sense to tell me you weren’t an investigator, I assumed you were an intelligent man.’

  Metellus glanced up. ‘Why did you say you weren’t an investigator, Ruso?’

  ‘Because I wasn’t!’ snapped Ruso. ‘And I’m never doing it again, either. It’s nothing but lies and deceit and making people even more miserable than they are already. Now if you’ll excuse me, sirs, I have patients to attend to.’

  It was rude and disrespectful and probably pompous as well, but he managed to get out of the door with his head held high. Somehow that was all that mattered.

  He was through the building site that was supposed to be a garden and halfway across the courtyard before he heard someone calling his name. The chainmailed form of Dias was looking at him across the back of a familiar-looking horse.

  Ruso said, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Escorting the tax money,’ said Dias. ‘Like I usually do. Haven’t you heard? We’re the town that always pays up.’

  ‘I could say a few other things about your town.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the guard, slackening the horse’s girth, ‘but who’d listen? Have you thought any more about that job offer?’

  Ruso glanced around, then took hold of one side of the bridle. ‘Since nobody’s listening,’ he said, ‘tell me something. I can see what Gallonius got out of it, with his town house and his country estate and all his jewellery. But you’re no fool, and you’re not all that rich, either. Where did your share go?’

  Dias grinned. ‘You think I’m no fool, but you’re asking me to incriminate myself?’

  ‘What can I do about it?’ asked Ruso. ‘Asper and Nico are getting the blame for everything. The Procurator won’t go after you now.’

  Dias considered that for a moment, then lowered his voice. ‘You won’t believe me if I tell you.’

  ‘Right now, I’d believe almost anything.’

  ‘Gallonius paid the engraver. But I had to pay Rogatus for the metalwork and a bit of occasional help.’

  ‘Like attacking my wife?’

  ‘I’m not proud of that,’ said Dias. ‘But it was in a good cause. Most of the money went on the lads.’

  ‘You did it for the guards?’ Ruso was taken aback.

  Dias sighed. ‘You’ve got no idea, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Decent uniforms. Good kit. Proper pay. A man doesn’t have to be a Roman citizen to appreciate things like that.’

  ‘They could join the Army.’

  Dias snorted. ‘And be treated like dirt? My people have been allies of Rome for generations, and you know how much our lads get paid if we join up to fight for you?’

  ‘Auxiliaries’ wages,’ conceded Ruso, knowing they were nowhere near what a legionary would receive.

  ‘Meantime we’re paying tax to keep your men over here, and what do we see for it?’

  ‘The Army keeps the peace,’ said Ruso, repeating the official line.

  ‘In the North, maybe,’ conceded Dias. ‘But when Verulamium needs to show a sharp edge to the neighbours, they send a bunch of old men with a blind fourteen-year-old in charge.’

  ‘Our men came to help. You didn’t even know the Iceni were on the way.’

  Dias was not listening. ‘You lot haven’t changed since you ran and left a bunch of civilians to face Boudica. Well we learned something from her, even if you didn’t. We learned that we can’t rely on you. If the other tribes come looking for trouble, we’ve got to be able to stand and fight for ourselves.’ Dias vaulted up on to the horse and turned its head towards the gateway. ‘We could’ve taken those Iceni.’

  Ruso did not doubt it. The man was a good leader, and shrewd enough to know that Rome would always put its own interests above those of its allies. He had cast himself in the role of a warrior and he was doing what tribal warriors had always done: defending his people. Dias was almost a hero. What was a little stolen money here or there? Nobody really needed a theatre, did they?

  It sounded so reasonable. So honourable … until he watched the scarlet braids disappear amongst the rest of the traffic in the street and thought of Camma lying in the rain, and Julius Asper, and the ravaged body of Bericus, and the sleep from which Nico – and so nearly he and Tilla – had never woken.

  Ruso strode back across the ruined garden and under the walkway. Swinging into the corridor, he almost collided with the Expenditure clerk and barely stopped to wait for ‘Come in!’ before bursting into Firmus’ office.

  ‘You can’t arrest those three for forgery or murder,’ he said, ‘but you’re responsible for inspecting milestones and tightening up on travel and transport, right?’

  Firmus blinked. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does that include the imperial post?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘And interfering with the imperial post is a serious offence, yes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘That’s how we nail Rogatus. Talk to Publius up at the mansio. Say you had an anonymous tip-off about people abusing the system and you want to help him clean it up. Dias is probably involved too, but if you can’t get him that way, have somebody check all the records of the Third Brittones. You may be able to get him for faking a medical discharge.’

  Firmus’ eyes were bright. ‘And the Magistrate – Gallonius?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Ruso. ‘He’s overcharging the mansio for supplies, but that’s not illegal. Maybe Metellus can come up with something.’

  ‘It’s worth a try.’ Firmus got to his feet. ‘Stay around in case my uncle wants to talk to you.’

  Ruso doubted that the Procurator would want to talk to him ever again, but he supposed he should comply. Thus he was standing on the edge of the Governor’s landing-stage and wondering whether any of the ships moored further down the glistening Tamesis would take him back to Gaul when a figure materialized beside
him. Metellus wanted a quiet word.

  There was only one word Ruso wanted to hear from Metellus. ‘Is my wife’s name off that list?’

  ‘I can’t forget what I know, Ruso.’

  ‘Then I’m not interested in anything else you have to say.’

  ‘I’m sorry you see it that way,’ said Metellus. ‘I wanted to thank you. And to explain one or two things.’

  75

  On the way back to Valens’ house Ruso passed the chamber where he had promised Mithras a lamb in exchange for a baby. Had that brief guardianship of another man’s child been a cruel joke? Some kind of retaliation for his neglect of the correct rituals? He didn’t know. Perhaps he should have prayed to a god who was more interested in women. And if Tilla was praying to Christos and he was praying to somebody else, would the great ones work together or cancel each other out in a fit of jealousy? He didn’t know that either.

  What he did know now, but was still finding hard to believe, was that Metellus had been involved with the whole Asper/Camma mess from the beginning. Metellus had tried to excuse himself, of course. It had been ‘only prudent’ to install an agent in Verulamium with orders to investigate the alarming rumour of some agreement between the Iceni and the Catuvellauni. It was not Metellus’ fault that Asper had chosen to flirt with Camma on the pretext of seeking information. It was certainly not Metellus’ fault that Asper had lost sight of his orders and instigated a full-blown affair.

  ‘I broke off all contact with him as soon as I found out,’ Metellus explained. ‘It was clear that the man had no idea where his loyalties lay. So when he sent the first message saying he was investigating something of interest, I didn’t reply.’

  ‘You told me you didn’t know anything about an investigation.’

  ‘I lied,’ said Metellus smoothly. ‘I was hoping you would find out what it was, and you have. I suppose he was planning to expose the forgery in an attempt to redeem himself. It’s a pity we can’t execute the forgers, but it would be politically inconvenient.’

  ‘So why are you telling me this?’

  Metellus’ sigh sounded genuinely regretful. ‘Because you seem to think I’m some kind of magician, Ruso. You seem to think that I know everything and I’m in control of everything. And I want you to understand that I’m not. Frankly, sending in Asper was a bad decision, and I’m grateful to you for sorting out what was going on up there. So I promise to do my best to have your wife’s name taken off the lists, but you must realize these things are widely circulated and copied and to be honest, I can’t guarantee to catch every – what are you – Ruso!’

  It was too late: neither the arms milling in the air nor the shriek of ‘No!’ could halt his fall from the edge of the landing-stage. Ruso was only sorry the tide was in.

  Back at the house, Valens was working his way through a queue of patients while Serena was scolding the nursemaid and the cook for letting a sticky twin hide under the couch with the honey jar. He found Tilla upstairs, clearing out the box of baby clothes. Leaning casually against the doorpost, he said, ‘I’ve just thrown Metellus in the river.’

  For a moment there was no reaction. Then she put the little pair of sheepskin boots down on the bed and stared at him. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll regret it, but not yet. How did he know you’d been given stolen money last autumn?’

  He was not fooled by the blank look.

  ‘I told you to get rid of it,’ he said. ‘What did you do with it?’

  She picked up one of the boots and slid a couple of fingers inside. ‘We needed food for the journey.’

  ‘But I specifically told you –’

  ‘Yes. But we were leaving, and it was a waste to throw money away.’

  He bent and snatched the boot away from her. ‘Listen to me! This is important. Somebody must have reported you. Now he’s put your name on one of his bloody security lists, and he doesn’t seem to know how to take you off it.’

  There were tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, thrusting the boot clumsily back into her hand. ‘I didn’t mean – it’s just that, if I don’t frighten you, you don’t take me seriously.’

  She picked up both boots and a soft woollen tunic and placed them back in the box. ‘I have let you down.’

  He pushed the door shut behind him. ‘I asked you to do something, Tilla, and as usual you did the opposite.’

  She did not answer.

  ‘I’ve been trying to buy off Metellus by sorting out this mess in Verulamium, only that didn’t work either, because when I asked you to stay at the mansio, you went off with the guards. Why do you do this to me?’

  ‘Did he drown?’

  ‘I doubt it. It wasn’t deep enough, unfortunately.’ He slumped down on the bed beside her. ‘I can’t go on like this.’

  She said, ‘There is something else I must tell you. Then we will decide about going on.’

  He closed his eyes and lay back on the bed. He was not sure he wanted to hear anything else, but she began to speak anyway.

  ‘After my family died and I went to live with the Northerners,’ she said, ‘there was a man who would not leave me alone even though he had a wife already.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do not know all of it. I found out I was with child. I told his wife. She brought a woman to help me.’

  Help. A small word with a world of meanings.

  ‘Afterwards I was very ill. I think this is why you and I have no baby, and perhaps we never will, and I should have told you this before.’

  He was conscious of his own breathing. It was almost hesitant, as if any sudden movement would shatter the fragile bond between them. He knew what she must be hoping to hear: something like It doesn’t matter, or I don’t mind, or You are still a good wife to me. But it did matter, and he did mind, and he wished she had not told him. Metellus’ words came back to him: I can’t forget what I know.

  ‘The Iceni said if I want to look after the baby I must go to live with them,’ she said. ‘So now I am asking what you want. Because if you want a child of your own, and somebody who does what she is told, you must find a new wife.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ he asked, his eyes still closed. ‘To go and live with the Iceni and bring up Camma’s baby?’

  When she did not answer he opened his eyes and sat up. ‘Is that what you want to do?’ he repeated.

  ‘I am asking what you want,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think I can live with the Iceni, Tilla.’

  ‘You were not invited.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve never really … I always just assumed that somewhere in the valley of the unborn there was a son or a daughter waiting …’ He stopped. ‘I need to think about it.’

  ‘Yes.’ She got to her feet. ‘I shall give the clothes to Serena. I expect she will be needing them before long.’

  ‘I didn’t mind him, you know.’ He scratched one ear. ‘He was a fine little chap.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He would have done quite nicely, really. I’d have got used to the hair.’

  ‘Yes.’

  From somewhere in the garden came a burble of childish laughter. He reached forward, put his arms around her waist and rested his head against the belly that was not holding his baby, and perhaps never would. ‘Everyone else,’ he said. ‘Why not us?’

  76

  Ruso’s guess about Dias was more accurate than he had expected. Not only had Dias not received a medical discharge from the Third Brittones, his description along with his real name was found on a list of deserters stored amongst the records at the residence. In the meantime Firmus had unearthed evidence that Rogatus was guilty of taking bribes and interfering with the imperial post. The Procurator was recommending that the Governor condemn the pair to work in the Western mines, where lead and silver were extracted in conditions so poisonous that it was tantamount to a death sentence.

  Firmus delivered this information to R
uso in person, looking very pleased with himself. ‘It was my idea,’ he said, shifting sideways in an attempt to get comfortable on Valens’ couch, ‘and Uncle agrees that it’s very appropriate. He’s going to clamp down on travelling officials demanding things they aren’t entitled to, as well. He says he’s glad I brought it to his attention. In fact, he’s written home to tell Mother I’ve made a good start.’

  ‘What about Gallonius?’

  ‘Oh, he’s more useful left where he is.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘He’ll tell the Council to offer Albanus the job of Quaestor.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Gallonius will do exactly what he’s told from now on, Ruso. Metellus has put his name on some sort of list.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘He knows if he doesn’t behave, we’ll dig up your report and execute him for forgery.’

  We. Firmus might have meant Rome, but more likely the word was shorthand for the Procurator, the Governor, Metellus – and me. The men who had agreed to leave a corrupt and murderous Briton in place because he was useful to them. Ruso hoped Albanus would think long and hard about that job offer.

  ‘So, as you see,’ continued Firmus as he was leaving, ‘it’s all worked out rather well. Even though you really weren’t an investigator, were you?’ He bent to squint at the pile of letters on the hall table. ‘Have you taken up clerking now?’

  ‘Just writing to a few acquaintances,’ explained Ruso. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be using the official post.’

  He stood in Valens’ doorway and watched the youth and his escort of guards strut off in the direction of the footbridge that led across the stream to the residence. Pyramus was hobbling along behind. At this rate, Firmus would go back to Rome a success.

  As for Ruso – he was living in a backward province with a barbarian wife whose name was probably on several security lists. They were both mourning the loss of a baby who belonged to neither of them, and of the other children who had existed only in their own imaginations. Instead of using his training and his ingenuity to help live patients, he had been wasting inordinate amounts of time investigating suspicious deaths and disappearances for the benefit of men who didn’t deserve it, and his career was no further forward than it had been when he first joined the Army. He glanced down at his stack of requests for jobs in Britannia. He could not impose on Valens for much longer. He needed either to send them, or to burn them and go back to Gaul.