Ruth Downie - Ruso and the Root of All Evils

Ruso drowned out the faint echoes of an old argument with ‘I hear I have to congratulate you on your marriage.’

‘Thank you. I take it you haven’t …?’

‘No.’

‘No, of course not. Well, who would you meet over there?’

Since he was not about to enlighten her, there was another awkward pause before they both spoke at once.

‘How is your father?’

‘Did you finish writing your book?’

Her smile revealed one front tooth very slightly in front of the other. ‘You first.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I gave up with the book. So how’s Probus?’

‘My father is very well, thank you. He and my husband are in business together.’

Ruso heard the echo of another criticism: the one about his own lack of ambition. Even if he had stayed here, he knew he would never have been deemed worthy of involvement in Probus’ financial affairs. He said, ‘I was sorry to hear about Justinus and the ship.’

‘Ships sink, I’m afraid. Severus has travelled himself; he understands these things.’

‘I see,’ said Ruso. If Claudia had heard any rumours about the loss of the Pride , she was clearly not intending to share them with him.

‘Severus is from Rome,’ she said, as if that explained his superior understanding.

‘I see.’ In a moment she would probably tell him that Severus was more handsome than he was and better in bed, too. Not that she would be likely to recall much of Ruso’s performance in bed, since it had frequently been curtailed by the room being too hot or too cold, or it being the wrong time of the month at least once a fortnight, or just ‘Not now, Gaius!’

Ruso cleared his throat and reminded himself that, if Claudia’s husband and her father were in business together, they were not doing it to spite him. ‘You know he’s trying to ruin us?’

The lines of her frown were deeper than they used to be. ‘He’s only doing his job, Gaius. He has to represent the Senator’s interests. It isn’t personal.’

‘Isn’t it?’ said Ruso. ‘I must have been misinformed.’

Claudia pursed her lips. ‘It isn’t up to me what Severus does.’

‘Lucius has children to feed,’ he said. ‘And Cass was always a good friend to you.’

‘I hear Lucius is drinking too much,’ she said. ‘And I haven’t seen his wife for years. I hardly saw her when we were married, with all that gallivanting around the East.’

Ruso took a deep breath. If he was not careful, everything would be his fault again. He said, ‘I’m just asking if you think what Severus is doing is fair.’

He saw her shoulders stiffen. ‘What I think doesn’t matter, Gaius. You must talk to my husband.’ She leaned forward. ‘Drive on!’

As the driver urged the horses forward she called over her shoulder, ‘If you’ve come to see him, don’t bother. He’s gone out. He’s gone to see you.’

There was no time to change. Ruso pulled his tunic straight and lurched up the couple of steps towards the entrance hall. His sister-in-law was hovering by the front door in a manner that suggested she had run out of conversation and was desperate to escape.

The man seated on the stool beside the Petreius household shrine was not, at first glance, an impressive sight. Beneath a no-nonsense crop of greying hair, the pale face had large nostrils that gave the effect of a permanent sneer. Ruso judged him as nearer forty than thirty, overweight and not in the best of health. Whatever Claudia had married him for, it was not his looks.

Severus did not bother to get up as Cass introduced him and then hurried off towards the children’s room. Instead he reached for the platter that had been set on a side table at his elbow and took a drink from one of Arria’s most delicate patterned glasses. ‘So,’ he said, clapping the glass back on the polished walnut table rather than the platter and spilling some of the contents, ‘Ruso.’

‘Severus. As you see, I got your letter.’

The man frowned. ‘What letter?’

Already, Lucius’ description of devious, vindictive, lying bastard rang true. ‘Has anyone been sent to fetch my brother?’

‘You don’t need reinforcements. This is all going to be nice and legal.’ The agent surveyed the boldly painted hall and the little wooden home of the household gods with the air of a man assessing a lot at auction. The bust of Ruso’s father stared back at him from its stand. Ruso hoped that, wherever Publius’ spirit had gone, he was not able to witness this meeting. Even if the whole mess was largely his own fault.

‘All this and a temple too,’ Severus remarked, scuffing at an uneven patch in the mosaic with the toe of one sandal. ‘Always the same, you people. Happy to borrow and then complaining when it’s time to pay up.’ He glanced around at the vacant-faced women on the walls. ‘Look at this lot. No wonder you can’t pay the bills.’

‘We pay our bills.’

‘Not from what I’ve heard.’

‘What we don’t do is pay them twice.’

‘Wake up, Ruso! Your brother’s lying to you. He spent the money himself.’

Ruso glanced around, wondering who was listening behind the closed doors. ‘Shall we talk in the study?’

Would he ever feel comfortable calling it ‘my study’? It was as much as he could do not to call it ‘my father’s …’

Severus seemed to have some difficulty heaving himself off the stool, but once up he headed in the right direction without being told. ‘Hot day,’ he muttered.

‘Want something else to drink?’

‘I didn’t come here to drink.’

Ruso grabbed the stool and carried it into the study. He placed it where his visitor could lower himself on to it without further effort. Then he shifted his father’s chair so that he could get into it without hopping clumsily along one side of the desk. ‘So. We owed the Senator a sum of money, and — ’

‘Let’s not dance around, Ruso. It’s stuffy in here, and I’m not feeling well. Your brother’s payment was short. Very short. I asked him to pay; he didn’t. I got a magistrate’s ruling, and he still didn’t. I’m running out of patience. I was thinking of bringing a few men over to straighten him out. But, since you’ve turned up, I’m prepared to do it through the law.’

Ruso wondered what Claudia could possibly have found attractive about this charmless lout, who seemed to think he was doing them a favour by trying to bankrupt them. ‘Lucius tells me he paid in full.’

‘Course he does. Prove it.’

‘I can’t prove anything,’ he said. ‘Neither can you. But I spoke to Fuscus this morning. He thinks you’ll want to change your mind very soon.’

Ruso had been hoping for a reaction to Fuscus’ name, but Severus did not seem to be concentrating. He was frowning and fingering his mouth as if he was not sure it belonged to him.

Ruso said, ‘I’m prepared to agree a second payment in order to get this thing settled.’

Severus cleared his throat, spat on the floor and said, ‘First I want an apology to the wife.’

Ruso blinked. ‘You want me to apologize to Claudia?’ That would be interesting. He could imagine what tales Claudia had told about him.

‘Not you, you fool,’ retorted Severus. ‘She’s not interested in you.’ He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘Or me. Not since that woman — what’s her name? — Arria. Not since Arria came round pouring poison in her ears.’ Ruso, who still had no idea what his visitor was talking about, thought he detected a slight slur in the voice. ‘S’not my fault,’ continued Severus. ‘Stuck here in the provinces with a complaining sister an’ a bunch of bumpkins who don’t know a good offer when you hear it.’ He looked up at Ruso as if he knew there was something else important to tell him but could not quite remember what it was. Finally he said, with more emphasis than was necessary, ‘Nobody upsets my wife!’