Ruth Downie - Ruso and the Root of All Evils

‘Then Probus wouldn’t poison him, would he? He’d want him alive to pay it back. Face it, Gaius. It’s obvious. Claudia did it.’

Ruso’s mind was turning over a question that had not occurred to him before. ‘Why was Justinus on the ship in the first place?’

‘Or maybe it was your girl who did it. Perhaps she fed him some wild barbarian potion, trying to do you a favour.’

‘Tilla was in town. You haven’t answered the question. Why was Justinus on the ship?’

Lucius rubbed one ear and wiped a black smear of hair lotion across his cheek. ‘To keep an eye on the business, I suppose.’

‘But why — ’

‘Holy gods, Gaius! The man’s dead: it doesn’t matter! Stick to the point. Do you realize that if we don’t find out who poisoned the Senator’s agent, you’ll be the one on trial in the Forum for murder?’

Ruso closed his eyes and prayed for patience. ‘Then perhaps,’ he said, ‘since you can see all the problems so clearly, you might try thinking what you can do to help, instead of knocking aside everything I’m trying to suggest.’

Lucius’ hand slapped on to the surface, splattering them both with water. ‘I tried to help! I warned you not to drag the family into a murder case, but you wouldn’t listen to me!’ He shoved himself away from the side of the bath. His voice echoed from the domed ceiling. ‘I had all this debt business under control, too, but no, you had to interfere! You’ve never listened to me. Even when we were children. You were always right!’

‘I was older!’

‘You still think I can’t manage without you!’

‘I’ve never said that.’

‘You didn’t have to! Poor old Lucius, can’t do without his big brother. You think this is all my fault and you’re going to sort it out, don’t you?’

‘It is your fault! If you’d just stopped to get a receipt from Severus we’d never have been in this mess!’

‘There never was a letter, was there? Admit it, Gaius!’

‘Of course there was! Ask Tilla.’

‘What does she know? She can’t even read!’

The boom of their voices collided over the splashing as Lucius grabbed his brother and yelled into his face, ‘You just came home to check up on me!’

‘No, I didn’t!’

It was a stupid, childish fight that turned into something worse. The kicking and splashing and grabbing and grunting and yelling, ‘Get off!’ and ‘Admit it!’ and ‘No!’ and ‘You made it up! Admit it!’ and ‘No!’ turned into heavy punches and pain.

Lucius, shorter but heavier, had Ruso’s face within an inch of the surface, yelling, ‘No, I didn’t!’ when Ruso suddenly felt him slacken his grip. He became aware of another voice. A smaller, higher voice, calling, ‘Papa! Uncle Gaius!’

Ruso released his hold on Lucius’ throat.

‘Polla!’ exclaimed Lucius as the brothers hastily pushed apart.

‘Papa, stop fighting,’ ordered Polla in the brisk tone she used with her younger brothers. ‘Little Lucius is up the pergola and he can’t get down, and Publius is shaking it.’

A smaller figure appeared from behind her skirt and cried, ‘Aah!’

Lucius wiped the thin strands of badly rinsed hair out of his eyes. ‘Where’s your mother?’

‘She’s busy. Papa, your nose is bleeding.’

‘Aah!’

‘Tell Publius I said to stop,’ said Lucius, wiping his upper lip and then glancing at his fingers before washing them in the bath water. ‘Then go and call Galla to put them to bed.’

‘Galla isn’t allowed to look after us.’

Ruso tucked a guiltily bloodstained fist behind his back and offered, ‘Ask Tilla.’

Polla shook her head. ‘I don’t know where she is. The laundry girl is there but the boys don’t take any notice of her. Papa, why is there black stuff on your head?’

Lucius uttered a word not commonly used in the presence of children and rose from the bath. ‘Tell them I’m coming.’ He swore again when he realized the towels had been on the floor when the water slopped over the side. He wiped his head with a sodden towel, then flung it aside and strode naked towards the door, muttering, ‘I can’t stand much more of this. Where the hell is she now? What’s the matter with this family?’

Ruso stretched out on his bed, closed his eyes and savoured these few moments of privacy. One of the things he had forgotten about family life was that a man could never be alone. Of course he was rarely alone in the Army, either, but there he frequently found himself in the company of men who were not expected to speak to him unless spoken to, so that despite their presence he could occupy himself with his own thoughts. In a household — at least, one as ill-disciplined as this — anyone felt free to accost and interrupt him at any time. Even the study was not safe now that he knew Arria had her own key. It was a sorry state of affairs when a man had to hide in his own bedroom on a warm evening with the shutters closed and a stick wedged in the door-latch just to get some peace and quiet.

He had spoken firmly with Arria, agreed that his sisters deserved to be confined to their room until morning and insisted that Galla must be allowed back into the house. He had also reminded her that Tilla was not a servant and would be dining with the family this evening. He had then gone down to the winery to convey this message, only to find both Tilla and Galla already eating at the long table set up in the yard for the farm slaves and sharing a joke with Cass, who was busy supervising the feeding of the staff while her children ran wild in the care of the laundrymaid.

No, Tilla assured him as he drew her aside, she did not do these things just to embarrass him. Why was she sitting outside the bunkhouse eating stew? ‘Because I am hungry after all that work.’

‘But you’re supposed to be dining with the family!’

‘You said that last night, but then that man is dead and the stepmother says there is no dinner.’

Ruso stared at her. ‘She meant the dinner with the neighbour was cancelled. I know there was a lot of rushing about, but there was food in the kitchen.’

Tilla shrugged. ‘Nobody tells me.’

He said, ‘Why didn’t you ask?’

‘She says there is no dinner, why bother to ask?’

‘Of course there was food, Tilla. You’re a guest. You should expect to be fed. It’s bad enough dealing with my family without you being deliberately obtuse.’

‘Being what?’

‘Never mind. Finish your dinner here. And don’t do this again tomorrow.’

‘Galla has invited me to meet her family tomorrow evening.’

Before he could object, she added, ‘Cass has said she can go.’

No doubt Tilla would enjoy the company of a slave’s relatives far more than that of his own. Ruso, who had not even been aware that Galla had a family, said, ‘The evening after, then.’

‘Yes.’

He went back to the table to inform Galla that her banishment from the house was over: she was to return to her duties as soon as she had finished her meal.

Galla was clearly delighted. ‘It is an answer to prayer, my lord.’

‘Good,’ growled Ruso. ‘It’s not often I’ve been the answer to anyone’s prayers lately.’

As he limped back towards the house he found Cass beside him, carrying a basket of eggs. At last, a chance to talk. He was about to broach the subject of Severus’ death when she said, ‘It was kind of Tilla to go and work with Galla in the winery.’

Ruso tried to remember if he had ever heard Tilla described as kind before. The word had never occurred to him. Perhaps he had been too hard on her.

Cass stepped ahead of him and shooed a hen away before pushing open the gate between the farmyard and the garden. ‘How’s your foot now?’