Ruth Downie - Caveat emptor

It was their host’s turn to say, “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Tilla assured him. “When I cook for him, I have to tell him what he is eating.”

Gallonius threw his head back and guffawed. His wife smiled wistfully, as if she wished she understood the joke. Tilla adjusted the bluebells again and grinned at her husband. Gallonius answered his own question with obvious pride and a servant stepped forward with a carving knife.

Musing while he ate, Ruso wondered how anyone could think that the best way to astonish and delight a visiting official was to see how many items of unrelated food could be crammed inside a deceased piglet before it exploded under the strain.

“Well!” exclaimed Gallonius as the debris of honey cakes dipped in wine was cleared away and Ruso was congratulating himself on having politely managed a taste of everything, “I’d imagine that’s better than you got from old Caratius.”

“Much better,” said Tilla, dabbling her fingers in the bowl of water the servant was holding in front of her. “More food and no bodies.”

Ruso wondered how much wine she had drunk.

“Our guards frightened Caratius’s mother,” she added.

“A very sad case,” put in the wife, seizing on another safe subject. He never brings her into town these days, does he, dear? She wanders off looking for the family silver.”

“She’s been dotty for years,” said Gallonius. “His father only married her because she convinced him the silver was really there. Of course, they never found it. I expect the Iceni had it. If it ever existed.” He turned to Tilla. “Which reminds me, my dear. It’s very good of you to look after that girl, but you should be careful. The Iceni can’t be relied upon.”

The awkward silence that followed was broken by the slaves carrying out the last of the empty tables and Gallonius announcing, “And now…” in a tone that sounded alarmingly as if they were about to reappear with more food on them. To Ruso’s relief he was only announcing that the ladies could withdraw next door while the men talked about things that would not interest them.

Tilla said, “What things?”

“Off you go, wife,” Ruso urged her. “Perhaps you could ask the cook for the piglet recipe.”

Gallonius’s wife dipped her thin fingers in the water bowl, rose from her chair, and began to drift toward the door. Tilla followed, but not before giving her husband a look that said he would be hearing about this later.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Gallonius sat up straight and said, “I hear you’ve brought in an assistant.”

“He’s taking a look at the finance records,” said Ruso, adding, “I’ve spoken to Nico,” as if the two facts were related and Nico had given his blessing to the audit.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. You need to be careful what you say about Caratius. Some new information has come up.”

Gallonius’s eyes widened. “What sort of information?”

Ruso decided not to name his suspects in case Gallonius tried to interfere. “I can’t explain until I’m certain,” he said, “but Asper’s death may have been nothing to do with Caratius. I think there was something illegal going on and Asper got mixed up in it. As Nico’s off sick I’ll need your permission to go into the strong room.”

Was that a brief hesitation before Gallonius stifled a belch and reached for his wine? “We’ve nothing to hide,” he said. “I’ll take you in there myself tomorrow morning. But don’t be fooled by the amount you find down there. Everything we have is set aside for some purpose or other. Did Nico tell you we have a generous fund to provide bread and schooling for orphans?”

“I did hear you have a fund for the theater.”

“A lot of the money for the theater is still just promises, I’m sorry to say.” The magistrate called for one of his servants to come and adjust his cushions before leaning back and removing his belt. “If you’re right, and Caratius doesn’t have the money, where is it?”

“I’m working on that.”

“We shall struggle if the procurator expects us to make up the missing payment. There will be a lot of dissatisfaction.”

“Yes,” said Ruso, “that’s more or less what Caratius said right back at the start of this.”

Gallonius looked up. “I hope you don’t think, Investigator, that this is some sort of elaborate ruse to defraud the procurator.”

“Oh, no,” said Ruso. “Because if it were, and you were caught, it would be catastrophic for everyone involved, wouldn’t it?”

After the warmth of the heated dining room, Tilla was shivering inside her shawl as they walked down the moonlit street past the deserted meat market. Ruso put his arm around her shoulders. There was almost nobody around to see them apart from a slinking cat and the two guards behind them, who could think what they liked.

Albanus answered their knock at Camma’s house, explaining that the ladies had gone to bed. He had two lamps and a short stump of candle burning on the kitchen table, perilously close to the piles of records he seemed to have spent all evening examining.

“Anything interesting?” said Ruso, more out of politeness than hope.

“Just a moment, sir.” Albanus flicked the beads of the abacus with his left hand and scratched a figure on the wax tablet with his right. Then he frowned at the figure and flicked the beads again but made no alterations to what he had just written. “I do have some questions, sir. Probably very foolish ones but I’m only a schoolteacher, I’m afraid. They seem to have an awful lot of different funds and it’s rather hard to tell what’s where, especially when they seem to keep moving money from one to another.”

Ruso squinted at the tablet. “I don’t know how you can work in this light. Have you found the orphans’ bread and education fund?”

“Oh, yes, sir. And the maintenance of streets fund and the extension to the mansio fund and the fund to pay the municipal slaves and the cost of keeping the guards going. I have to say I didn’t realize how complicated this would be.”

Ruso pointed to the largest figure. “What’s that one?”

Albanus peered at his list, referred to a second list, and said, “That’s the running total for the theater fund, sir, as of last January. I’m sorry I haven’t finished, but Dias came to call and there was a bit of a fuss over getting rid of him.”

Tilla said, “Dias? Here?”

Ruso frowned. “I should have known he wasn’t taking the evening off.”

“He wanted to talk to Grata, sir. She told me to tell him to go away.”

Tilla said, “I knew I should never have left them!”

Albanus visibly bristled. “I got rid of him, sir. The ladies were quite safe.”

Ruso said, “Well done,” just as Tilla said, “How did you do that?”

“Grata ran back into the kitchen, sir, and I stood in his path and told him that if he tried to come past I would be forced to use violence. And then he tried to insult me, and I told him I was a trained legionary acting under the orders of the procurator, and if he didn’t leave straightaway I would report him to you.”

“Excellent,” said Ruso, picturing the scene. “I knew I could rely on you.”

“I think it may have helped when Camma pulled the poker out of the fire and waved it at him,” admitted Albanus. He spread one arm to indicate the piles of documents on the table. “So I’m afraid with all that I haven’t got as far as I would have liked. I was wondering whether you’d mind if I stayed here to finish, sir? Grata’s kindly left me some blankets on the couch.”

Ruso recalled the splendor of Suite Three, where the sheets still retained a faint memory of lavender. “Well,” he said, “if you’re sure you don’t mind staying, Tilla can come back with me.”