Ruso and the Root of All Evils Page 12

  They could get a donkey to do this, she thought, pausing as a shadow fell across the rows of fat jars set in the floor and one of the vineyard workers strode in with another basketload to upend all over her feet. They could attach a donkey to a pole and make it walk round and round. And round. And round. Although she supposed a donkey might relieve itself all over the grapes. She was tempted to wee in that horrible woman’s grape juice herself, except that it would not be fair on Galla, who would also have to stand in it.

  At least the other workers had left them alone. The men were convinced that having women’s feet crushing the grapes this morning would bring bad luck on the precious vintage. Instead of telling them not to be so silly, the Medicus’ brother had said he would find them something else to do.

  ‘He is being kind, miss,’ explained Galla after he had gone. ‘All the other jobs he could give us are out in the sun.’

  Privately Tilla thought he was being cowardly. Surely the stepmother could not tell him who should work on his own farm?

  Galla’s face was still red on one side where Arria had slapped it. Tilla suspected she herself had only escaped being struck because Arria was afraid of what the Medicus would say about it when he came back from consoling the old wife.

  She had expected that yesterday’s fuss over the runaway sisters would be forgotten this morning, eclipsed by the mysterious death of the man in the study. She was wrong. The girls, finally released from their room, had emerged to offer Tilla a sulky apology for getting lost. Immediately the apology was accepted, they proceeded to blame her for their woes. Why had she made such a great fuss about nothing, running off all over the town ‘instead of waiting for us like Galla does’?

  At this moment Arria, who must have been listening inside the hall, marched out on to the porch and demanded, ‘What do you mean, “like Galla does”?’

  Summoned, the terrified slave had finally confessed that, yes, when she chaperoned the girls into town they did sometimes go off on their own.

  ‘Where do they go? Who with? You stupid girl! How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’

  The girls were sent back to their room and told that Arria expected to hear some music practice. Galla was informed that, since she could not be trusted to look after the family, she was now to consider herself a farm labourer.

  When Tilla intervened to say it was not fair, Arria snapped, ‘And you can go too. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, young woman!’

  ‘Why did you never tell her that the girls ran away from you?’ asked Tilla, changing hands again on the rope.

  ‘Because I am more afraid of them than of her, miss.’

  ‘You do not have to call me miss,’ Tilla reminded her. ‘We are in the same trough.’

  ‘No, m … Tilla. If I had known they were taking you to town, I would have warned you.’

  ‘Where do they go?’

  ‘I told the mistress. I don’t know.’

  ‘But you can guess,’ said Tilla, who had spent enough time as a slave to know that servants knew far more than they dared tell.

  Safe from the wrath of Arria and her daughters, Galla did not need much prompting. ‘I think they hang around the gates of the gladiators’ barracks.’

  Tilla paused to scoop a drowning beetle out of the pulp. She set it on the wall of the trough, shook off the slimy grape-skins that were clinging to her fingers and said, ‘Is it something to do with a fighter called Tertius?’

  ‘Tertius is a very stupid boy,’ said Galla. ‘Marcia thinks he is going to marry her.’ Leaving unspoken the obvious conclusion that Marcia was not very bright either, Galla added, ‘Did she wear the green stole?’

  Tilla gripped the rope again and swung round to face her. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘They did that to me, too. They wear something bright on top. Then when they run away they take it off. So you are looking for a girl in a green stole …’

  ‘… who is nowhere,’ said Tilla, realizing how they had made a fool of her. Marcia had deliberately wrapped her in that necklace like a chain. She spotted a pristine bunch of grapes, took aim and splattered it with her left foot. ‘How do you put up with this?’

  ‘I have never done it before.’

  ‘I mean the family.’

  ‘I pray to be able to forgive,’ said Galla unexpectedly.

  ‘I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Some days it is easier than others,’ Galla agreed, shuffling sideways. ‘And at least I am not often beaten.’

  ‘She hit you today.’

  ‘Today is a bad day. So was yesterday.’

  Tilla pondered this for a moment. ‘Were you there when that man died yesterday?’

  Galla trapped a stray grape between her toes and squelched it before answering, ‘I’m sorry, miss –’

  ‘Tilla.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tilla. The master told me not to speak of it.’

  Tilla had to admire the girl’s loyalty, but it was frustrating to find Galla just as reluctant to reveal the last words as the Medicus had been.

  She tried, ‘Do you know the master’s old wife?’

  ‘Not well.’

  The slave was both loyal and tactful. It was very annoying.

  ‘Severus’ sister cried when she came to fetch the body,’ Galla said suddenly, as if she had finally thought of something safe to talk about. ‘I felt sorry for her.’

  ‘It is a terrible thing to lose a brother.’ They stopped trampling. Tilla could hear the juice trickling down into the vat. She said, ‘My brothers were killed by men from another tribe.’ Here, surrounded by high walls and sunny vineyards, gardens and olive groves, it seemed almost impossible to believe that such things could happen.

  ‘Mistress Cassiana’s brother is dead too. He went on a ship and drowned.’ Galla pushed back a strand of hair that was stuck to her forehead and moved to an untrodden corner of the trough.

  ‘I heard. I am sorry for her.’

  ‘When the man came with the news, he sent me to fetch her. While I was gone, little Lucius climbed up the ladder and fell off the roof and broke his arm. So it was a bad day for everyone.’ She sighed. ‘The mistress is right, she can’t trust me to look after the family.’

  ‘Maybe the mistress needs to learn to forgive,’ suggested Tilla.

  ‘It is the only way,’ Galla agreed, not sounding very hopeful.

  ‘It is one way,’ said Tilla. She had never forgiven the raiders from the north who had killed her family and at the moment she was not eager to forgive the Medicus’ stepmother and sisters, either. ‘Do you think Severus’ family will forgive whoever killed him?’

  ‘I hope so. It is the only way to stop things getting worse.’

  ‘But there must be justice. A man who has done wrong must be made to pay the price, or there is nothing to stop him doing it again.’ Tilla swilled the juice around with one foot, searching for strays. ‘Or her,’ she added.

  ‘I’m not saying his family should not have justice,’ said Galla, ‘but justice may not come in this world.’

  Here was something Tilla could grasp. Her own family were waiting for her in the next world, although the shortage of druids at home meant that no one was able to explain that world to her in a way that made sense. It had already occurred to her that, if she were to die here, her spirit might not be able to find its way back to them any more than the lost spirit of Justinus could return until someone built a tomb and called him home.

  ‘So,’ she said, pushing further at the door Galla had begun to open, ‘who do you think should be forgiven for killing this Severus?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I am not asking you to know. I am asking you to guess.’

  Galla pursed her lips. ‘He never seemed like a nice man.’

  ‘Somebody must have been very angry with him. Perhaps his wife?’

  ‘Oh no, Claudia’s very respectable!’

  Tilla changed hands on the rope and said nothing.

/>   ‘Really. That would be terrible, a woman …’

  ‘Terrible,’ agreed Tilla. ‘It must be somebody else.’

  ‘Perhaps Claudia’s father.’

  ‘Because he did not like his son-in-law?’ Tilla prompted.

  ‘Or because of the ship,’ mused Galla.

  When Galla seemed disinclined to continue, she prompted, ‘The ship?’

  ‘The ship where Mistress Cassiana’s brother was drowned.’ Galla paused.

  Tilla took a long, slow breath. Getting this story was like pulling teeth. She was about to prompt again when Galla said, ‘I heard something in the market the other day. After the mistress asked the fish-sellers if they had heard of the Pride of the South. I said nothing because it wouldn’t bring her brother back and I thought it would upset her more.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘They told her they didn’t know anything. But after she had gone I heard one of them tell his friend that the Pride of the South was so rotten he was surprised it had made it out of port.’

  Galla stopped, and looked at her as if waiting for reassurance. It seemed this was the climax of the story. When Tilla did not reply, she said, ‘Do you think I will be in more trouble for not saying this before?’

  ‘I will tell the Medicus,’ Tilla said. ‘But at the moment he is busy trying to find out who killed Severus.’

  ‘That’s why I’m telling you!’ exclaimed Galla. ‘It was Severus who chose which ship to invest in.’

  Tilla thought about that for a moment. ‘That would be a good reason for Cass to want revenge on him.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ Galla looked as though she was about to burst into tears. ‘No, no. I’m sorry. I’m not very good at explaining. Severus chose which ship to invest in but he had no money. That was why Justinus was on board. He was there to make sure everything was done properly, because the money all came from his master. Probus. Claudia’s father.’

  Tilla swung round to face Galla with her weight resting on the rope. ‘And when this rotten ship disappeared, the father lost his steward and his money, and it was the fault of Severus?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  The crunch of footsteps outside spurred them back to work before a bulky silhouette appeared in the doorway. The Medicus’ brother grunted a greeting and approached with, ‘The lads want to be in here before long to set the press up.’

  Tilla guessed from the abruptness of his tone that he was not sure how to address them. He bent to peer at the green slop, grunted again and stirred it around with a stick. ‘Every single grape,’ he reminded them. ‘I don’t want any still whole when they come through the press.’

  Tilla did not dare to ask how something as soft as a grape could possibly emerge whole from beneath the massive press-beam built into the wall of the winery. Instead, she groped dutifully in the mush with her toes, hunting for escapees and wondering whether a man would really murder his son-in-law for making a bad choice of ship.

  Chapter 29

  Ruso tried to imagine what he would do if Claudia were not his ex-wife or, conversely, if the woman he was about to visit were not Claudia.

  What was the correct course of action if a husband who was intending to be unfaithful to his wife arrived at someone else’s house, collapsed and then died with the words ‘The bitch has poisoned me!’ on his lips? Should his host keep these words a secret and then go straight away next morning to reveal them to the widow?

  Probably not.

  The trouble was, he could not picture Claudia poisoning anyone. Shrieking at them, yes. Throwing things, yes. Sulking, yes. Poisoning – no. Why go to that bother when, as they both knew, one could simply get a divorce?

  On the other hand, if not Claudia, then who? He had still not managed to question Cass, but it was inconceivable that his sister-in-law, a woman so tolerant with her children and so generous with her time, would have murdered somebody.

  The gatekeeper of the big estate was a fearsome creature with only one eye. He went to consult the steward, leaving Ruso to guess whether man and guard dog had gained their scars in a fight with each other, or whether there had been others involved.

  Ruso was wondering whether the gatekeeper had wandered off and forgotten him when the heavy gate finally swung open on silent hinges to reveal the weasel-faced steward. He announced, ‘The agent’s widow will see you now,’ in a tone that suggested he had to obey his instructions but he didn’t have to like them.

  Ruso followed the man in through the gates. The white roses trained around the pillars of the house contrasted with the dark cypress branches of mourning hung above the front door. From somewhere within came the sound of wailing. Ruso was relieved to be led away to the right, where a walled garden dotted with statues separated the house from the farm buildings. The garden occupied the sort of space the Army would have deemed adequate for five hundred infantrymen, their stores, their officers, and all their officers’ friends, relations and horses. As he crunched along a shaded pathway past a fishpond the size of a swimming pool, Ruso suspected that the slaves currently hoeing the flowerbeds were waiting to pounce on the gravel and rake away his footprints.

  The place radiated the genteel elegance to which his stepmother aspired, but which she would never achieve. And access to this was what the charmless Severus had to offer that he himself didn’t, and never would have. The words of Lollia Saturnina came back to him: Claudia has made some very bad decisions in the last few years.

  Oh, Claudia, he thought, you fool.

  The steward motioned him to wait and approached a high-backed wicker chair facing away from them beneath the shade of a summerhouse. All Ruso could see of its occupant was one slender foot in a grey sandal. After a brief and inaudible conversation the man beckoned him forward.

  Ruso was appalled to find himself wondering whether, if he hobbled fast enough, he could be out of sight behind the hedge before she turned round. Instead, he took a deep breath and approached the throne.

  ‘You can leave us, Zosimus,’ she told the steward. ‘I will ring if I need help.’

  Ruso blinked. Between them on the little stone table there really was a brass bell.

  The steward gave Ruso a look that said he had better not try anything and walked away.

  Claudia’s skin looked waxy. Her eyes were puffy below the make-up, and the dark hollows beneath them matched the murky grey of her outfit. She said, ‘Zosimus thinks you poisoned my husband.’

  Ruso shifted the bell to one side and sat on the table, since there was nowhere else and he was not going to hover like a servant. ‘I know.’

  ‘Well, did you?’

  ‘No. Did you?’

  A crease appeared between the plucked brows. ‘Still as tactless as ever, I see.’

  Ruso had wondered how this would go, and so far it was going just as he had expected. ‘Let’s start again, shall we? Hello, Claudia. I’m very sorry about Severus.’

  She groped down in the side of the chair and drew out a fan. ‘Thank you,’ she said, wafting cool air across her face. ‘I’m sorry too. Surprisingly.’

  He wanted very much to know what that meant, but knew it would be a mistake to ask.

  She said, ‘Did he suffer?’

  He told her the death had been very quick. He was not sure she believed him, but she seemed grateful. It occurred to him that he could not remember seeing her dressed without jewellery before.

  ‘I’m supposed to be up at the house, receiving condolences,’ she said, ‘but if I have to stay in that room with Ennia much longer I shall strangle her. I don’t care who’s going to take her back to Rome now, so long as somebody does. Preferably very soon.’

  ‘Did your husband have any other close family?’

  ‘No, thank goodness. Can you imagine what it would be like with a whole bunch of them, weeping and collapsing all over the place? All this is just a pantomime, you know. She did nothing but whinge when he was alive.’

  It seemed to be the way with sisters. He said, ‘I suppose there�
��ll be an investigation.’

  ‘Eventually.’

  ‘Had he been ill recently?’

  ‘I thought you said he was poisoned?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I’m just trying to make sure of the facts. I’ve had some experience with things like this over in Britannia. Let me see what I can find out for you.’

  ‘You?’

  Ruso could not think what he could say that would change the opinion Claudia had formed of him during three years of marriage, so instead he said, ‘I’d imagine Severus had enemies.’

  ‘Of course he did. It wasn’t his job to make friends, it was his job to manage the estate. As you know.’

  ‘I’ll need names. Details.’

  She shook her head. ‘We don’t need you, Gaius. Daddy’s gone to see Fuscus to ask him to send a message to his cousin the Senator.’

  His cousin the Senator. Even Claudia was doing it now.

  She said, ‘We expect he’ll send one of his own men to investigate.’

  ‘From Rome? That’ll take for ever.’

  There was still a hint of superiority in her tone as she said, ‘The message will go on the official despatch service.’

  ‘Even so, it’ll be at least two or three weeks.’

  Claudia patted her hair. A couple of strands dislodged themselves and tumbled down over one ear, making her at once half as formal and twice as attractive. ‘Daddy said that’s what we should do,’ she said. ‘When he finds out I’ve been talking to you, he’ll be furious.’

  Ruso knew better than to argue with Daddy. He got to his feet and stepped across to check that there were no gardeners lurking behind the neatly sculpted cypress hedges before saying, ‘This probably isn’t the right time to tell you, but you need to know. I was alone with Severus when he died. His last words were, The bitch has poisoned me.’