Persona Non Grata (34 page)

83

R
USO AND TILLA stood among the bewildered house hold, staring into the darkness after the four figures who had ridden away toward the gate house: one horse’s reins in the hand of another rider.

Tilla was complaining about him giving way and handing over the horses, but the pain in his foot was making it difficult to concentrate. He wished it would also take his mind off what might be happening to Claudia. Calvus had repeated his promise that she would be released unharmed, but that could have been a lie to ease their escape. No matter what excuses he made for himself, the truth was that he had failed her. This was how things had always been with Claudia. No matter how hard he tried, he could never quite—

Shouting. Coming from the gatehouse. Screams. Everyone else rushed toward the sound, leaving Ruso slow and exasperated, swinging dangerously far forward on the crutches as a horse whinnied and there was a yellow flare of torchlight beyond the wall. Moments later he heard the thud of hooves cantering away down the track toward the road.

By the time he pushed his way to the middle of the melee, two bodies were being held down with hoes and pitchforks while jubilant slaves jeered and shouted encouragement and argued about what to do with them. Calvus and Stilo had not escaped after all.

He said, “Where are the women?” but the only answer he got was from a delighted Flaccus. “Nobody can say we didn’t defend the family now, sir, can they?”

Tilla appeared at his elbow. “We have did this because I expect you will let them go,” she announced, confusing her tenses as she did when she was excited. “So I send some men to wait for them on top of the gatehouse.”

He said, “What have they done with the women?”

“Are you not pleased?”

“I’m impressed. I’m amazed. I’m very tired. Where are the women?”

She said, “I think the horses bolt.”

Ruso sighed. Claudia was not a practiced rider, on the grounds that horses had sharp hooves and big teeth. If her horse had stumbled or swerved, she would probably have fallen off in the dark. He glanced across to where one of the recovered mounts was being led back in through the gates. “Ask them to light me a torch, Tilla. I’ll go and have a look.”

Somewhere ahead of him along the darkened track a voice was saying, “Nice horse. Nice horse,
please
. . .”

“Claudia?”

“Gaius! Is that you? Have those men gone? Oh Gaius, I thought I was going to die out here!”

“You’re safe now.”

The torch picked out the shape of the animal steadily munching on the dry grass at the side of the track. He could make out the line of a rein as the figure on its back was trying to haul its head up. He moved alongside, bending down to take the bridle. “Did you see what happened to Ennia?”

“Oh Gaius,” she sobbed. “It’s all been so horrible. Ennia just rode off and left me on my own in the dark. First it wouldn’t stop, and now it won’t go! Why did you let them take me on a horse?”

84

I
T’S ALL RIGHT,” said Lucius, shuffling back across the hot tiles in his bathing shoes. “I’ve locked the door. Not even the bath boy can get in now.”

“Excellent.” Ruso stretched out on the bench and closed his eyes, relishing the peace and quiet before he had to ride back into town to visit Tertius. The hoped-for relaxation did not come. Instead he remembered something else he needed to do.

“I ought to warn Tilla to keep quiet about the Christians.”

“Are they really a problem? Cass seems to think they’re harmlessly eccentric.”

“As far as I can make out, it’s a religion full of women, the poor, and the ignorant. I don’t think Tilla will stick with it for long. She’s not very keen on loving her enemies.”

“But we’re definitely in the clear over poisoning Severus?”

“Ennia admitted it in front of witnesses. And Fuscus turned up and had his men arrest Calvus and Stilo and the steward. I’d imagine he’s planning something ghastly for them at the next Games.”

Lucius said, “Ouch.”

Ruso shifted to get comfortable, and flinched as his arm came into contact with the heated wall. “You know, even after everything she did, I almost hope they don’t get their hands on Ennia.”

Lucius said, “I’d like to. If she’s got a pot of gold stashed away down in Rome, she ought to give it to us.”

“At least the senator will be too busy sorting this lot out to bother with the bankruptcy case.”

“Good. I knew once I’d rescued the girls and worked out who those investigators were, I could leave the details to you.”

“I see,” said Ruso. “Actually, I thought it was Tilla who worked that out.”

“I let her think that,” said Lucius. “Women like to think they’re needed.”

Ruso had expected Lucius to ask more questions, but evidently all he wanted to know was that whatever other threats were out there, his big brother had dealt with them. The monsters were safely back in the cupboard.

He sniffed and opened his eyes. “What the hell are you putting on your head now?”

“Something I picked up in Arelate.” Lucius was massaging a thin brown dribble into his scalp. “It’s the latest thing. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it. Burned hooves of she goats in vinegar.”

Ruso, who could think of nothing to say, sank back onto the bench and closed his eyes again.

“Now that we’ve got a minute,” said Lucius, “I suppose I should mention something. It’s a bit embarrassing but Cass says if I don’t tell you, she will. We tidied up the study and had another run through the accounts last night. When we came to balance them— oh, what now?” He waited until the thumping on the outside door had stopped, then shouted, “We’re busy, come back later!”

“But Papa,” came a small voice, “there’s a cross old man come to talk to Uncle Gaius.”

The brothers exchanged a glance.

“Name, Polla!” shouted Lucius. “Go and ask the cross old man what his name is.”

Before she could reply, a familiar voice demanded, “Are you in there, Ruso? This is Probus. Doesn’t anyone in this family have any manners?”

Ruso considered asking Lucius to pretend he was out, but then thought better of it. He would have to face Claudia’s father sooner or later. No doubt the man had come to complain about last night’s events.

Leaving Lucius to stew under his hair tonic, Ruso offered his former father-in-law a bench in the warm room next door. “There’s towels if you want to bathe,” he offered, feeling at something of a disadvantage since Probus was fully dressed while he was wearing nothing but a hastily grabbed towel around his waist and a bandage around his foot.

To his surprise, business was not the very first thing on Probus’s mind. Neither was Claudia.

“The sister’s dead. I thought you’d want to know. Found at first light, about five miles out on the Arelate road. Earrings ripped out, most of her clothes stolen. They took the horse, of course.”

Ruso shook his head. “So she never got to Rome.”

“It’s some sort of justice, I suppose.”

Ruso wondered if Ennia had really had the misfortune to run into robbers, or if some of the estate staff had slipped away and taken matters into their own hands. Even so, it was a kinder fate than she would have suffered in the arena had she been convicted of murdering her brother. “Claudia was right,” he said. “She said it was Ennia. I didn’t believe her.”

While Probus was speculating on the gruesome end that awaited Calvus, Stilo, and Zosimus, Ruso was wondering whether Severus really had done away with Ennia’s fiancé down in Rome, or whether that had just been a boast to keep Zosimus in line. And whether there really was a hoard of cash in Rome that nobody now knew how to find, or whether that had been another lie. He said, “How’s Claudia?”

“She’s over at my house, confined to bed. I’ve been across to the senator’s place. The winery looks as though there’s been an earthquake. I’ve never seen such a mess.”

“And the gatekeeper?”

“I don’t know, Ruso. I’m not here to give health reports on all the staff.”

For once, Probus had a good excuse for being bad-tempered. “Now that I can speak freely,” he said, “I’d say Severus got what he deserved. He was implicit in the murder of my steward, he was unfaithful to my daughter, and he tried to swindle me out of a very considerable sum of money.”

“And your investors.”

Probus cleared his throat. “Naturally, now that the truth about the sinking of the
Pride of the South
has been brought to my attention and a proportion of the stolen money has been recovered, my investors will all be fully reimbursed and compensated. Under the circumstances, it’s the honorable thing to do.”

It was the only thing to do if Probus was to salvage his business. For a moment Ruso almost felt sorry for him.

“Of course, I still don’t condone you allowing your sister-in-law and that woman—”

“Tilla,” prompted Ruso.

“I don’t condone your allowing them to go to Arelate when I had specifically asked for the whole business to be kept quiet.”

“Cass was making inquiries about the loss of her brother,” said Ruso, not pointing out that they had not sought his permission, anyway. “You gave her reason to believe he might still be alive, and then told her nothing more. What was she supposed to do?”

“I was doing everything I could to trace him!” snapped Probus. “I’m not inhuman, Ruso. Justinus was a good man.”

“You did give the appearance of only being interested in your cash flow.”

Probus’s eyes met his own, and for a moment Ruso almost thought he caught a hint of contrition.

“Now, about this business last night.”

“There wasn’t time to get reinforcements,” Ruso explained. “I did my best, but—”

“No need to be modest. I’ve come here to thank you. You’ve been loyal to Claudia all along. Last night she tells me you saved her life.”

“It was Zosimus who finally got the staff to cooperate. By the time I got to her she wasn’t in any danger. The horse had stopped.”

Probus’s brief moment of vulnerability vanished. His face hardened. “Are you suggesting that my daughter is not telling the truth?”

“I think she’s a bit confused. I think everybody was.”

“Hm.” For the first time Ruso could recall, Probus seemed unsure what to say next. Finally he offered, “I have been giving Claudia’s situation a great deal of thought.”

Ruso, not sure where this was leading, tried, “Of course.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I may not always be the best judge of what is good for her.”

Not knowing whether he was supposed to agree or disagree with this, Ruso cleared his throat.

“Frankly, Severus was a disaster.”

“He certainly was,” Ruso agreed with a fervor that he hoped made up for the prevarication.

“You’ve proved a loyal friend to her, and although I have very grave doubts about the wisdom of this, I have agreed to bring a message saying that she would be prepared to consider a reconciliation.”

There were many things Ruso could have said in reply to this, but none of them occurred to him until several hours later. While he was waiting for a set of coherent words to assemble themselves in his brain and make their way to his mouth, he found himself scratching one ear until it hurt.

“Is it the hair?” demanded Probus. “Rather a shock, poor girl. But it will grow back, you know.”

“It—it’s not the hair,” stumbled Ruso, adding truthfully, “In fact I think it suits her short. Perhaps not green, though.”

“Financially, we are still very secure,” Probus assured him. “And I suppose you could master some sort of rudimentary business skills?”

“I really don’t think—”

Probus got to his feet. “Well, you don’t have to give her an answer straightaway. But it would cheer her up.”

“Not for long,” said Ruso. “I’m flattered, but I’d be hopeless in business and she’d only get exasperated again.”

“Yes,” agreed Probus, surprising Ruso with a smile. “That’s exactly what I told her. Well done, Ruso. It seems you do have some sense after all. I take it you’re still hugely in debt?”

“Of course.”

“Come and see me sometime next week and we’ll work on rearranging your loans. Oddly enough—”

Whatever Probus found odd was lost in the sound of more hammering on the door. Ruso apologized and went to see what the latest crisis was.

To his surprise, the interruption was caused by Flora. Seconds later he was pulling on a clean tunic and apologizing again to Probus. With a strong sense of foreboding, he stepped out into the garden and braced himself to deal with, “Gaius, Mother says you’ve got to smarten yourself up because Lollia from next door’s turned up with Marcia’s gladiator and his aunt, and Marcia’s hiding in the bedroom.”

85

R
USO RAN BOTH hands through his hair, buckled his belt, and opened the door of the bath house. As Probus strode away toward the garden gate, Arria was hurrying down from the porch. Across in the yard, Lollia Saturnina scrambled out of the back of a cart and an anxious-looking woman who was presumably the aunt hurried forward and opened the yard gate for her.

Lucius said, “I need to leave this on my hair for another half hour,” and made to retreat back to the bathhouse.

“What was it you were going to tell me about the accounts?”

The tone of Lucius’s “Ah” suggested that he had been hoping his brother would forget to ask. “We seem to have a bit more money than we thought.”

“How much more?”

“About two hundred.” Lucius coughed. “Exactly two hundred, in fact.”

Ruso slumped against the door frame.

“It was in a bag that had slipped down behind the trunk.”

As Ruso said, “I don’t want to hear this,” a chorus of petitions rang out.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

“Can I have a word, Ruso?”

“Gaius, go and tell Marcia she’s got to come out!”

“In fact,” said Ruso, “I think I haven’t heard it. Use it to pay the wheelwright.” He stepped forward and closed the door behind him. “Did somebody say Tertius is here?”

Ruso climbed up into Lollia’s vehicle and knelt beside Tertius on the straw. The lad was still horribly pale, but there was no more hemorrhaging and the wound did not seem to be inflamed or excessively swollen. Neither, according to Tertius, was it very painful. “Gnostus gave me some of his potion, sir.”

“Yes,” said Ruso, reaching across to take his pulse. “I’m going to have to find out what’s in Gnostus’s potion. Tell me, Tertius, how is it you keep turning up unexpectedly like this?”

The lad managed a smile, although he was too weak to lift his head. “Now that I’m not a gladiator, sir . . .” He paused for breath. “I’d like to ask your permission to marry Marcia Petreia.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Because I love her, sir.”

Ruso released the pulse. “I meant, why aren’t you a gladiator?”

The lad shifted to get more comfortable and winced. “My aunt prayed to Christos for me, sir.”

Ruso was tempted to ask the aunt how Christos had come up with the huge sum of money that would be required to induce a gladiator trainer to pull a fighter out in the middle of the Games. “I don’t know about Marcia,” he said, recalling how Gnostus’s potion tended to addle the brain, “but I’d imagine that whoever paid for you has plans for you herself.”

“Do I look like the sort of woman who fawns over gladiators, Ruso?”

Ruso wished he had checked behind him before speaking.

“Our relationship is purely business,” continued Lollia. “I’ve come to ask you to take care of this young man until he can work.”

“I see,” said Ruso, not entirely sure that he did.

“I had some spare jewelry,” she said, as casually as if she were speaking about a spare pair of socks. “His aunt told me about Tertius’s situation and said he was a good worker.”

Still baffled, Ruso said, “You could have bought an ordinary slave for much less.”

“Our Lord gave his life to redeem us,” said Lollia. “All I needed to give was a few colored stones. And I’m certainly not looking for a man for myself. Not this close to the final judgment.”

“I see,” repeated Ruso, now wishing he didn’t. “So you’re another one?”

The gap-toothed smile that had so impressed him a few days ago reappeared. “I was still thinking about it when you took the trouble to warn me the other day,” she said. “Your attitude helped me make my mind up.”

“Which lord is that, Lollia, dear?” asked Arria, who had evidently been listening over the garden wall.

While Lollia was cheerfully confirming that she had decided to join the followers of Christos, Ruso was deciding that he was going to keep his mouth shut about religion in future. And he was going to have proper arrangements for visitors, with a waiting area and servants to usher people in and out of the study, instead of holding this sort of free-for-all where anybody could wander up and barge into his conversations.

“Gaius is very interested in Christos, aren’t you, Gaius? Would he have to do that circumcision thing, do you think, dear, or don’t they do that these days?”

“I am not doing the circumcision thing!” snapped Ruso. “And I am not going to turn into a Christian. Somebody has to keep their feet on the ground around here. Sorry, Lollia.”

“Oh, but Gaius, dear, you could—”

“No he couldn’t, Mother,” insisted Flora. “And besides, Lollia’s given loads of her money away now, so what’s the point?”