Ruth Downie - Caveat emptor

Ruso envied Valens his ability to ignore what he did not want to hear. Serena was busy supervising the loading of her voluminous luggage onto the second carriage. Valens was bouncing up and down the steps with one or other twin on his shoulders. He seemed to have decided that his wife was returning home because she had succumbed to his charms. As their hosts had remarked over dinner several times before the first course was cleared away, it was so considerate of him to come and fetch her.

The baby really was very red haired. Ruso waited until his wife had climbed into the carriage and then handed him up to her, careful to support the wobbly head with a hand that looked huge against the size of the creature that might be about to change both their lives. Tilla took the baby without a word. Last night they had agreed not to talk about it, both afraid of saying things that could not be unsaid later. This agreement seemed to have carried on through breakfast, and now he was wondering if they would ever talk about it, or if Tilla was hoping that one day he would forget that the child belonged to neither of them.

She settled down in the corner and brought out the clumsy feeding cup. He swung up to sit beside her. He supposed she would find a wet nurse when they got to Londinium. He supposed he would be expected to pay. He wanted to say, “It’s not the baby I object to, it’s the not being consulted,” but he was not sure it was true.

The carriage shifted and creaked as the driver climbed on board. To Ruso’s surprise Valens appeared in the doorway. “Mind if I ride with you? It’s a bit crowded back there. Our driver says we’ll never make it up the hills with the weight.”

“Give us some luggage instead,” suggested Tilla. “Then you can talk to your wife.”

“Oh, I can talk to her anytime,” said Valens breezily, settling himself on the seat opposite. “Whereas you two are likely to push off at any moment. Actually, that’s what I wanted to chat with you about. Ruso, are you taking that job offer?”

Ruso said, “I’d rather starve.”

Valens’s eyes widened. They widened even farther when Tilla said, “We are wiping this place off our shoes and never coming back.”

Valens shook his head sadly. “The business with Camma was always going to end badly, you know. You could see that from the start. And now you’re left holding the baby.” He peered across the carriage. “It is awfully red, isn’t it?”

“Like fire and the sun,” said Tilla.

“If you say so.”

“And beautiful.”

“Oh, absolutely. Anyway, those chaps back there obviously took to you both, even though you did try to strangle the one with the things in his hair. And the place can’t be that bad. Albanus says he’s staying on for a few days after the funeral.”

“Albanus is staying because Grata is there,” said Tilla, setting the pot aside to wipe up the milk the baby had just dribbled all over her lap, “and because Londinium is full of small boys who do not want to learn Greek.”

Ruso did not want to think about Albanus and the disappointment on his face last night. Ruso had broken the news of Camma’s death to both clerk and housekeeper in Camma’s kitchen. Through the tears Grata had said, “Dias did it.”

“I think so too,” he agreed, “but he’s clever. If Caratius’s workers saw anything, they were too frightened to say. The only thing we can prove about Dias was that he was in Londinium. And that’s using a witness who was drunk at the time and may be too loyal to testify.”

“And me,” put in Grata.

“I’ve been talking to this young lady, sir,” said Albanus, placing one hand on Grata’s shoulder with surprising boldness. “She is prepared to testify that Dias sent a false message to lure Asper and his brother to their deaths.”

Ruso had promised them both that he would see what the procurator said. The Albanus he had known back in the army would have been satisfied with that. These days he was confident enough to argue.

“Grata is being very brave, sir. She’s prepared to give evidence despite being threatened.”

“I know,” Ruso had said, “and I appreciate it.” The trouble was, he suspected nobody would want to listen.

The carriage lurched as the driver urged the horses forward. Valens gave the group on the mansio steps a cheery wave. Ruso raised a hand in farewell to Publius and his wife, and if Gallonius and Dias thought he was acknowledging them, they were wrong.

“What I was thinking,” said Valens, settling back into his seat, “was that if you aren’t taking that job, I might pop back while you’re all at the cemetery and have a chat with them about it myself. To be honest, things are a bit tricky with Serena at the moment, and a move might-”

“It’s not a job,” said Ruso. “It’s a bribe.”

Valens frowned. “Are you sure?”

Tilla said, “The handsome one you just waved to was your burglar. He has killed four people and we think the man who is in charge of these carriages was helping him. The fat one made my husband cover everything up because they do not want Rome saying they cannot govern themselves.”

Valens leapt up and hung out of the open doorway, narrowly missing a collision with a stack of wood as they overtook a lumbering ox wagon. “That chap back there was in my house?”

“He and the stable overseer killed Asper and his brother. Then he did away with the town finance officer and probably Camma as well,” said Ruso. “Not to mention having a crack at us too.”

“Jupiter almighty! So what are we going to do about it?” Valens looked as though he was ready to jump out of the carriage and confront him.

Ruso remembered when he had been that naive too. It seemed a very long time ago. “The plump one is a local bigwig,” he said, “and your burglar’s in charge of the town militia. The procurator won’t care as long as the money’s straight, so…” He stopped.

“But surely we should be able to do something?”

Ruso ran both hands through his hair. “Wait a minute.”

“This is outrageous!” exclaimed Valens, slumping back into his seat. “These people can’t go around murdering Roman citizens!”

“Or the rest of us,” put in Tilla. “What are you thinking, husband?”

Ruso was not ready to put it into words. He needed to go back over what had happened, seeing events through the new window that had just opened in his mind. He got up. “I need to talk to the money changer. Satto saw the money.”

“What are you-”

“Satto saw that money! That was what he showed me!”

“What money? Be careful!”

He had already leapt. He landed unsteadily on the side of the road, calling, “I’ll see you at the cemetery.”

“Where are you going?”

“I think I may have gotten it all wrong!”

When Tilla looked back on their time in Verulamium, the things she would remember most were not the grand buildings or the busy markets, the sight of Camma nursing the baby beside the kitchen fire, or even the terror of waking in Suite Three to find that someone had tried to suffocate her. What she would remember was the funerals.

This was the last of them: a farewell to the woman who had drawn her into this and become a friend. Now Camma was following her lover to the next world: being sent off by a man who had married her, perhaps out of vanity, but certainly with no malice and perhaps even some hope of good.

A surprising crowd had turned out to watch the baby that still had no name see the flames lit for a second time. She supposed it had to be expected: Camma’s life had ended in scandal, and the number of onlookers, the sound of wailing, and the sight of the official carriages drawn up on the roadside was causing other travelers to stop and see who was being cremated.