Ruth Downie - Ruso and the Root of All Evils

‘I think it’s more likely to be the other way around.’

The paint on Arria’s lips stretched across a smile. ‘You’ll like her, Gaius. Trust me. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you weren’t suited. Now, before you disappear into the bath-house, you must help me choose a menu.’

You must help me choose a menu . Claudia had said that once, early in their marriage. He thought he had done rather well until she told him she would do it on her own next time.

‘I really don’t think this is the time to be holding dinner parties.’

Arria sighed. ‘Gaius, you’re not going to be awkward, are you?’

‘I’m not being awkward, I’m being practical. And I’m never any good at this social chit-chat business anyway.’

‘Never mind, dear. We’ll blame that on the Army. I’ll invite Diphilus; he’s good company. You can ask Lollia about her cough. And do try to look a little happier. She won’t be interested if she thinks you’re sulky. I’ll have your clothes brushed and pressed, and promise me you’ll have a shave and a haircut in the morning. You’re not in Britannia now, you know.’

‘I’m beginning to wish I was,’ said Ruso, remembering with fondness the little room at the top of the steps, with the pot of wild flowers on the windowsill and the mystery products of Tilla’s cooking on the table.

Arria was promising, ‘… chicken in dill sauce, of course, your favourite …’

Was it? Perhaps it had been, once. Doubtless she would be able to tell him exactly where and when he had expressed this rare burst of enthusiasm.

‘… and I’ll ask her to have her cook send over the recipe.’

‘Good,’ said Ruso, having no idea what else Arria had just proposed, and no interest in finding out.

‘You like them too? Lovely! You see, already you both have something in common.’

‘Do we?’

‘Oh, Gaius! Are you listening to anything I’m saying? Roast testicles!’

‘Roast testicles?’

‘With pepper and pine nuts.’

‘Ah,’ said Ruso.

Ruso lay back, feeling a faint breeze from the window cool his skin. This was the first night for weeks that he had gone to bed alone. Tilla had been sleeping when he checked her room an hour ago, but his resolve to let her rest was weakening.

He had planned to introduce her properly this evening when the family gathered for dinner, only to be informed, as the salad was served and the girls turned up without her, that she had ‘gone to play with the children’.

He had found her sitting on the floor of the children’s room, having her hair combed by the nieces. A cheerfully naked toddler was sprawled across her lap, ignoring Galla’s attempts to interest him in the pot.

Tilla took the pot from Galla and set it between her feet. Then she grasped the toddler under both arms, lifted him up and set him on it, facing towards her. ‘There!’ She leaned forward and said to the toddler, ‘We will both sit here and see who can do it first.’

The girls giggled.

‘Ready?’ Tilla asked Little Gaius. She screwed up her eyes, bared her teeth, clenched her fists and made a straining noise that sounded like ‘Nnnnnnnn!’

Little Gaius shrieked and bounced with delight on the pot while the girls cried, ‘She’s making a poo noise! Uncle Gaius, listen! Listen, Galla!’

Ruso was no longer sure she deserved an invitation to dinner, but he was not going to be ignored in favour of his small namesake. ‘Dinnertime,’ he said, realizing that she was still clad in her hot British wool. ‘Didn’t the girls lend you something cooler to wear?’

Unable to turn her head without having her hair pulled, Tilla said, ‘Your stepmother has something yellow for me tomorrow.’

He raised his voice. ‘That’ll have to do, girls. She’s mine now.’ To Tilla he said, ‘Come and get something to eat.’

She stilled the efforts of the nieces by grasping the comb. ‘I have just had a big bowl of broth and half a loaf at the kitchen table. Then they gave me stewed apple and wine with water. What must I eat now?’

‘Dinner. Whatever the cook was making while you were in there. Didn’t anybody tell you?’

The eyes that were not really blue widened in alarm. ‘Nobody said I must eat again! It is too hot!’

‘Just come in and have a little. I want to introduce you to the family.’

‘I do not think they want to meet me again.’

‘Of course they do.’

‘No, they don’t, Uncle Gaius!’ put in one of the nieces helpfully. ‘Grandmother Arria said — ’

‘Never mind what Arria said,’ interrupted Ruso, knowing full well who must have instructed the cook to cram Tilla with food. ‘You’re welcome to join the family for dinner.’

‘I will come if you want, but I am tired, and hot, and full up.’ There was a rare note of anxiety in her voice.

To his shame, he felt relieved. As far as he knew, Tilla had never attended a proper dinner before. In Britannia she was officially his housekeeper. It had never occurred to him to invite her on the rare occasions when he dined with other officers. He had never discussed it with her, but he was certain she would not have wanted to go. That was just as well, because he would no more have been expected to bring her than he would be expected to bring the family dog.

When he returned to the dining room he admitted none of this to Arria, to whom he explained that there had been a misunderstanding, that Tilla was weary from the journey but that in future she would be eating with the family.

He was glad she was not there to see the expression on Arria’s face.

By the time dinner was over, Tilla had already gone to bed.

Something creaked out in the corridor. Footsteps passed by. Somewhere at the far end a door clamped shut.

Ruso wondered whether to go and fetch her. He really should let her sleep. He really should sleep himself, instead of lying here going over the events of the day and wondering what he could do tomorrow to stop mess sliding into disaster.

He rolled over and scowled at the old cupboard in the corner. It reminded him of the childhood nights when Lucius had refused to let him snuff out the lamp until he had checked that those cupboard doors were locked. It was vital that they were locked after dark, because of the monsters.

Until now he had never thought to wonder how the monsters had installed themselves in the cupboard — or in Lucius’ mind — in the first place. They even had names: Gobbus was a male monster with matted hair, green teeth and breath that smelled of rotten eggs; Mogta was his sister, or perhaps his wife — their precise relationship, being of no interest to seven- and nine-year-olds, was never defined. What was clear was that Mogta liked to slide her sharp fingernails into the soft flesh of small boys in the night, and then skin them alive while they cried for their mothers.

As he watched the shadow of the cupboard breathing against the pale wall with the drifting of the lamp flame, it occurred to Ruso that the monsters must have appeared at around about the time a winter fever had taken away their own mother. Lucius had lain in this room with the same fever for what seemed like weeks, although it had probably only been a few days. The house had been full of weeping and strangers. Adults whom Ruso did not recognize, but who knew his name, told him how sorry they were and how brave he was being.

Nobody except Ruso had time to listen to a small boy’s tales of what he had seen coming out of the cupboard in the fevered night. To Ruso’s shame, he had found it funny — until Lucius kept him awake, crying and cuddling up to him for comfort. Then he veered between sympathy — now their mother was gone it was his job to protect his little brother — and exasperation. In fact, he had felt then much as he felt now. Except that this time the monsters were real.